PART 4

I stood.

“Yes?”

“We need you upstairs.”

“Why?”

The doctor’s face was pale.

“Sophie’s condition just changed.”

My heart stopped.

“What happened?”

“She started bleeding.”

Daniel stood behind me.

“Is she okay?”

The doctor looked between us.

“We don’t know yet.”

Then, from inside the room, we heard Sophie scream.

“Mom!”

I ran.

And as I pushed open the door, I saw the blood on the hospital sheet.

But what frightened me most wasn’t the blood.

It was the expression on Dr. Ortiz’s face.

She was staring at the monitor.

And whispering to herself:

“This isn’t a pregnancy.”

She looked at me.

“It’s something else.”

Then she pointed at the screen.

“We found a mass.”

PART 4
The room went silent after Dr. Ortiz said the word mass.

I stared at the ultrasound screen, trying to understand the collection of gray and black shapes that meant absolutely nothing to me.

“A mass where?”

Dr. Ortiz pointed carefully at the monitor.

“Near the left ovary.”

My knees nearly gave out.

“Is it cancer?”

“We don’t know.”

“Then tell me what you do know.”

She looked at Sophie.

“We know this isn’t a normal pregnancy. We know the tissue is producing beta-hCG, which explains the positive pregnancy tests. And we know the bleeding means we need to investigate immediately.”

Sophie was crying.

“Mom, am I sick?”

I rushed to her side.

“No matter what happens, I’m right here.”

“But they keep saying things.”

“I know.”

“Am I going to die?”

I looked at Dr. Ortiz.

She shook her head gently.

“We don’t know that, sweetheart. Right now, we’re going to take care of you.”

The door opened.

A nurse entered with another physician.

Behind them stood Detective Harris.

And behind Detective Harris was Daniel.

Eric was nowhere in sight.

The detective looked at the doctor.

“Is she stable?”

“For now.”

He nodded.

Then he turned toward me.

“Mrs. Morgan, I need to speak with you privately.”

I shook my head.

“Not now.”

“I understand.”

“My daughter is bleeding.”

“I know.”

“Then don’t ask me questions.”

He lowered his voice.

“We searched Eric’s house.”

Everything inside me froze.

“What?”

“We obtained a warrant.”

My mouth went dry.

“What did you find?”

Detective Harris looked at Daniel.

Then at me.

“A locked refrigerator in the garage.”

I stared at him.

“What’s inside?”

“We’re still processing it.”

“Then why are you telling me?”

“Because there was a medication vial inside.”

My heart pounded.

“What medication?”

“We’re waiting for the lab.”

I looked down at the pink bottle still sitting on the counter.

“Was there a syringe?”

“Yes.”

My stomach turned.

“Anything else?”

Detective Harris hesitated.

“A notebook.”

“What kind of notebook?”

“Medical records.”

I frowned.

“For Sophie?”

“Not exactly.”

“What does that mean?”

He opened his notebook.

“The records contain dates.”

“Dates of what?”

“Her symptoms.”

My entire body went cold.

“What symptoms?”

“Headaches. Vomiting. Dizziness. Breast development. Weight changes. Hormonal changes.”

I couldn’t breathe.

“He was tracking her.”

Detective Harris didn’t answer.

He didn’t need to.

I looked at Sophie.

She was staring at us.

She had heard everything.

“Mom?”

I walked to her immediately.

“Don’t worry about anything they’re saying.”

“But Dad has a notebook about me?”

I couldn’t lie.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

She began crying again.

Daniel stepped closer.

“I’m here, Sophie.”

She looked at him.

“Did I do something wrong?”

Daniel’s face broke.

“No.”

“Then why is everybody acting like I did?”

“You didn’t.”

He sat beside her.

“You didn’t do anything.”

Sophie reached for his hand.

He took it.

And for the first time since the nightmare began, I realized something.

Sophie trusted Daniel.

Completely.

That mattered.

Because children often know who makes them feel safe long before adults admit what they see.

That evening, surgeons took Sophie into another room for an emergency procedure.

I wasn’t allowed to go with her.

I stood outside the operating room doors, staring at the red light above them.

Daniel sat beside me.

Neither of us spoke.

After twenty minutes, he finally whispered:

“I should have told you.”

I turned.

“Told me what?”

“About Eric.”

I stared at him.

“What exactly did you know?”

Daniel rubbed his hands together.

“I knew he was seeing someone.”

“Someone?”

“A doctor.”

My heart sank.

“What doctor?”

“I don’t know her name.”

“Daniel.”

“I swear.”

“Then tell me everything.”

He took a breath.

“Three months ago, I saw Eric outside a private clinic. He wasn’t alone. There was a woman with him.”

“What did she look like?”

“Early forties. Dark hair. White coat.”

“A doctor.”

“Yes.”

“Did you hear what they were talking about?”

“Only one thing.”

“What?”

Daniel looked toward the operating room.

“He asked her, ‘How long before the hormone levels become noticeable?’”

I felt as though the floor disappeared beneath me.

“What did the woman say?”

“She said, ‘That depends on what you’re giving her.’”

My hand flew to my mouth.

Daniel continued.

“I didn’t understand what they meant.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I thought they were talking about someone else.”

“Someone else?”

“Eric had told me he was helping a family member with a medical condition.”

I stood.

“You should have told me.”

“I know.”

“You should have told me the moment you saw him.”

“I know.”

“You could have protected her.”

Daniel lowered his head.

“I know.”

I wanted to scream at him.

But then the operating room door opened.

A surgeon stepped out.

I rushed forward.

“Doctor?”

He removed his mask.

“The mass has been removed.”

My legs nearly collapsed.

“Is she okay?”

“She is stable.”

“Is it cancer?”

“We’ve sent the tissue for pathology.”

“Will she wake up?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Soon.”

I closed my eyes.

Thank God.

Then the surgeon said:

“But there is something you need to understand.”

I opened my eyes.

“What?”

“The mass was producing a very high amount of hCG.”

“So she was pregnant?”

“No.”

He shook his head.

“It was a rare type of ovarian tumor.”

My stomach dropped.

“Cancer?”

“We don’t know yet.”

“What caused it?”

“That isn’t something we can determine from the surgery alone.”

He paused.

“But there’s something unusual.”

“What?”

“The tumor was highly active despite its size.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means something may have been stimulating it.”

I stared at him.

“Something?”

“A hormone. A medication. Another biological factor.”

My mind immediately went to the pink bottle.

“Could medicine cause it?”

The surgeon looked at me.

“Certain substances can affect hormone pathways.”

My hands began trembling.

“So somebody could have caused this?”

“We can’t say that yet.”

“But you’re thinking it.”

“I’m saying it needs to be investigated.”

Detective Harris stepped forward.

“We’re investigating.”

The surgeon nodded.

“Then you need to know something else.”

He lowered his voice.

“We found evidence that the tumor had been bleeding internally for some time.”

My breath caught.

“How long?”

CONTINUE FOR NEXT PART…