And then… something I had buried.
Two years earlier, I had gotten terribly sick. Bleeding. Fever. Pain so sharp I couldn’t stand.
Margaret had forced me to drink a bitter herbal mixture. Ethan said it was just “a delayed cycle.”
They never took me to a hospital.
The doctor ordered more tests.
It was late when he returned, holding a blue folder, his face grave.
“Elena,” he said gently, “we found signs of a previous pregnancy that didn’t come to term.”
The room tilted.
“I didn’t know I was pregnant.”
He hesitated.
“It appears there was… an induced termination. Not natural. And not medically supervised.”
Karen stopped writing.
My stomach turned.
Memories flooded back—Margaret holding my head, forcing me to drink. Ethan standing in the doorway, saying, “Maybe this will teach you.”
The doctor spoke more quietly.
“Based on the timing and the evidence… it’s possible that pregnancy was male.”
I couldn’t breathe.
For years, Ethan had punished me for not giving him a son.
And all along…
They might have taken one from me.
Before I could process it, the door burst open.
Karen rushed in, pale.
“Elena—we need to act now.”
My heart dropped.
“What happened?”
She swallowed.
“Margaret took Lily. From the neighbor’s house.”
And no one knew where they were going.
Part 3
Pain disappeared.
I tried to rip the IV from my arm, to run, to find my child.
“My daughter!” I cried. “She’s going to take her!”
