Chapter 3 - The Toxicology ReportThe atmosphere in the room shattered into total chaos.

“Pitocin?!” Alejandro stood up, his voice echoing off the sterile walls. “That’s a drug used to start labor in hospitals! How could that be in her blood? She hasn't taken any medication!”

“It was disguised,” Dr. Vance said, pulling up a tablet. “It was ingested orally roughly forty-five minutes to an hour before she collapsed. Combined with the cold exposure, it caused a double-catastrophe: uterine tetany—where the uterus contracts continuously without relaxing—cutting off the baby's oxygen supply completely.”

Elena staggered back, covering her mouth with both hands, looking between the police officers and her daughter. “No... no, that’s impossible! She cooked the meal herself! She was in the kitchen all day!”

“Not all day,” I whispered, the memories of the evening flashing in my head like lightning.

I looked at Paola. She had backed herself up against the wall near the door, her hands shaking so violently she had to drop her purse to the floor.

“The soda,” I said, the truth hitting me with crushing clarity. “When you arrived late... you dropped your purse on the counter next to the drinks. You insisted on serving me a glass of cranberry juice before dinner. You handed it to me directly and said, ‘Drink this, you look like you’re going to pass out.’”

All eyes turned to Paola.

“That’s a lie!” Paola screamed, her voice breaking into a panicked screech. “She’s making it up! She hates me! She’s always hated me because Alejandro loves his family! Officer, arrest her! She’s crazy!”

“Miss,” the lead police officer said, stepping between Paola and the door. “We need you to calm down and step away from the exit.”

“Don’t touch me!” Paola yelled, attempting to shove past the officer.

The second officer moved in instantly, grabbing her arm and twisting it behind her back. CLICK. The sound of the metallic handcuff snapping around her wrist echoed like a gunshot in the room.

“Paola!” Elena shrieked, tears pouring down her face. “Officers, stop! What are you doing?! She’s my daughter!”

“Paola Ross,” the officer declared loudly, snapping the second cuff onto her left wrist. “You are under arrest for attempted murder, felony child abuse, and aggravated assault.”

“Alejandro! Tell them!” Paola sobbed as she was forced toward the door. “Tell them I would never do this! I was just trying to teach her a lesson! She was taking over the family! She was taking you away from us!”

Alejandro didn't move. He stood frozen, staring at his sister as if looking at a monster. “You tried to kill my baby,” he whispered, his voice trembling with a mixture of immense grief and terrifying rage. “You poisoned my wife... and then you locked her in the cold to freeze to death.”

“It was just supposed to make her go into labor early!” Paola blurted out in a burst of reckless panic, trying to defend herself. “I didn’t want the baby to die! I just wanted her to have the baby early so she couldn’t go on that promotion trip to Chicago with you! I wanted her to fail!”

The entire room froze.

Paola realized what she had just admitted to. Her eyes widened in absolute horror as the words hung in the air, recorded clearly on the police body cameras.

“Take her out,” the police officer grunted, dragging her kicking and screaming down the hallway.

“Alejandro! Mom! Help me! Don’t let them take me! IT WAS A MISTAKE!” Paola’s screams echoed down the corridor until the heavy doors clanged shut, leaving behind a silence far more deafening than the screaming.

Elena collapsed into a chair, sobbing uncontrollably into her hands. “My God... what has she done? What has she done?”

Alejandro didn't comfort his mother. He slowly turned around and walked over to my bed. He fell to his knees, burying his face into my blankets, sobbing hysterically, begging for forgiveness.

“I’m sorry... I’m so sorry I didn’t protect you, Maya... I told you she was just being Paola... I let a monster into our home...”

I couldn't speak. The physical pain was nothing compared to the psychological terror of knowing that the woman who sat at my Thanksgiving table had deliberately poisoned my blood to rip my baby out of me.

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Arthur Sterling tapped his leather-wrapped fingers against the steering...

The sound hung in the air, rhythmic and deliberate—tap, tap, tap—reverbe...

The wind on the balcony was sharp, carrying the bitter, fish-heavy tang...

Suddenly, the red emergency alarm on the wall above my bed began to flash violently.

A nurse burst through the door, her face pale. “Dr. Vance! It’s the baby in NICU Bed 4! Baby Hope’s oxygen levels just collapsed! She’s going into cardiac arrest!”