Chapter 4 - Minutes to Live
The emergency department of St. Jude’s Women’s Hospital was a blur of fluorescent lights, shouting surgeons, and the relentless, terrifying beep of cardiac monitors.
"Emergency C-section!" Dr. Elena Rostova, the chief OB-GYN surgeon, yelled as my gurney slammed through the double doors of Operating Room 3. "Placental abruption! She’s hemorrhaging internally! Prepare two units of O-negative blood instantly!"
I was barely floating on the edge of consciousness. Cold oxygen mask pressed against my face. Needles piercing my veins. The metallic taste of blood in the back of my throat.
"Clara, listen to my voice!" Dr. Rostova snapped, leaning over me while nurses cut away my wet, blood-stained clothes. "You have severe internal bleeding from blunt force impact to your torso. Your babies are in extreme distress. We are putting you under general anesthesia right now to save all three of your lives. Do you understand?"
"Save... my babies..." I sobbed behind the plastic mask. "Please... don't let them die..."
"I won't," Dr. Rostova swore fiercely. "Anesthesiologist, put her under!"
The white light above the operating table expanded until it swallowed me whole.
Meanwhile, in the waiting room outside the surgical wing, Marcus Sterling stood like a statue, his arms crossed over his leather jacket. His clothes were still stained with my blood.
The heavy glass doors swung open.
Patricia and Brianna Brooks walked in. They were both wearing elegant winter coats, clutching tissues, their faces twisted into rehearsed expressions of frantic family grief.
"Oh, Marcus!" Patricia cried out, rushing toward him with her arms open. "We just heard! The police called us! It's horrific! Absolutely horrific!"
Marcus didn't move. He didn't embrace her. He stood there, looking down at her with pure, unadulterated disgust.
"How did you hear, Patricia?" Marcus asked, his voice disturbingly calm. "The police haven't released any official statement yet."
Patricia flinched for a split second, but Brianna smoothly stepped forward, dabbing her dry eyes with a handkerchief.
"The neighborhood group chat!" Brianna claimed quickly. "Someone saw the ambulance at the house! Oh God, Marcus, how is she? How are the babies? We were so worried she might slip on those slick kitchen floors... she’s always been so clumsy during this pregnancy!"
"She slipped?" Marcus repeated, taking a step toward Brianna.
"Well... yes!" Brianna stammered, backing up slightly under his intense gaze. "What else could have happened? She was alone in the house!"
At that exact moment, two uniformed officers from the Asheville Police Department stepped into the waiting room lobby. Beside them was Detective Sarah Vance—a veteran investigator known for her uncompromising, bulldog tenacity.
"Marcus Sterling?" Detective Vance called out.
"Detective," Marcus said, turning away from the two women. "I'm the one who called you."
Patricia put a hand over her heart, attempting to assume control of the narrative. "Detective, thank goodness you're here! I am Patricia Brooks, Clara's mother-in-law. This is a tragic domestic accident. My daughter-in-law fell while my son was away on business—"
"Mrs. Brooks," Detective Vance interrupted coldly, pulling a pair of steel handcuffs from her tactical belt. "I'm going to ask you and your daughter to keep your mouth closed."
Brianna’s face drained of color. "What? Why? We just got here to support our family!"
"We received an emergency digital evidence upload thirty minutes ago," Detective Vance stated, stepping around Patricia to grab Brianna's wrist. "Containing forty-five minutes of unedited, high-definition 4K audio and video footage from the crime scene."
Brianna shrieked as the steel cuff snapped shut around her wrist. "Hey! Get your hands off me! You can't do this! Do you know who my family is?!"
"Brianna Brooks," Detective Vance read from a small card, pulling her arms firmly behind her back. "You are under arrest for attempted murder, aggravated assault on a pregnant female, felony child abuse, and attempted grand larceny."
"No! This is a mistake! Mom, tell them!" Brianna screamed, thrashing against the detective's grip.
Patricia’s aristocratic facade completely shattered. "This is outrage! On what evidence?! You're taking the word of a hysterical, lying woman who fell down her own stairs?!"
Marcus pulled his phone from his pocket, turned the screen toward Patricia, and pressed play.
High-definition audio echoed through the quiet hospital waiting room.
“You should’ve signed.” Brianna’s taped voice boomed clearly from the speaker, followed by the sickening sound of a fist hitting my abdomen and my blood-curdling scream. “They’ll believe you slipped. They’ll never suspect me.”
Then came Patricia’s taped voice: “Is everything finished?”
Patricia stumbled back against the wall, her eyes wide with sheer horror as she stared at her own face on the crisp smartphone screen.
"You... you had a camera?" Patricia whispered, her lips trembling uncontrollably.
"Every second," Marcus said, his eyes burning into hers. "Every single second was captured."
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Detective Vance’s partner stepped up behind Patricia, pulling her arms back. "Patricia Brooks, you are under arrest for conspiracy to commit murder, obstruction of justice, and accessory to felony assault."
As the officers dragged the screaming, cursing women down the hospital corridor, the red light above Operating Room 3 turned off.
