Chapter 3 - THE HUNTED MOTHER
"They can't do that!" Sarah yelled, stepping between the door and my bed. "She just got out of surgery!"
"The order came from Detective Harrison—Michael's uncle," the charge nurse said fiercely, pulling out a master keycard. "He’s using a rogue child welfare petition. If those officers walk in here with that paper, hospital policy usually forces us to comply until a judge reviews it tomorrow morning."
"Over my dead body," I snapped, the pain of my fresh abdominal incision flaring like liquid fire as I tried to sit up. "They are not taking my daughter."
"Listen to me," the head OB doctor said, placing a firm hand on my shoulder. "There is a service elevator behind the recovery bay that leads to the underground ambulance parking. I am disabling the floor cameras for the next ten minutes. Sarah, take her personal belongings. Emily, can you walk?"
"I don't care if I have to crawl," I gritted my teeth, holding Maya tightly against my skin. "Get me out of here."
The next five minutes were a blur of adrenaline and agonizing pain. Supported by Sarah and a rogue nurse who refused to let a corrupt system steal a newborn, I was wheeled into the dim, stainless-steel service elevator.
As the doors began to slide shut, the heavy pounding of boots resonated down the main hallway.
"Open this door! Police order!" a loud voice echoed through the corridor.
The elevator dropped.
When the doors opened into the cold, concrete basement, a dark SUV was idling near the loading dock. The driver’s side window rolled down to reveal a woman with sharp eyes and silver hair.
"Get in," she said.
"Who are you?" Sarah asked defensively, stepping in front of my wheelchair.
"I’m Eleanor Vance," the woman replied, holding up a sleek leather badge. "State Attorney General’s Special Crimes Unit. We’ve been wiretapping David and Michael’s real estate syndicate for six months for money laundering and human trafficking. Your husband didn't just want your inheritance, Mrs. Vance—he owes three million dollars to a cartel front, and he promised them your baby’s adoption rights in exchange for debt erasure."
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The air left my lungs. The horror was deeper, darker, and more sickening than I could have ever imagined. My marriage hadn't just been a lie; it had been a calculated transaction from the very beginning.
"Get in the car," Eleanor ordered, her voice cold as ice. "Before Detective Harrison tracks this vehicle."
