Margaret’s eyes flashed.
“I was protecting this family.”
Ryan stepped closer.
“From whom?”
She pointed at me.
“From her.”
Nobody spoke.
The monitor beside my bed continued its soft electronic rhythm.
A cart squeaked somewhere in the corridor.
My legs throbbed under the thin sheet Ryan had pulled back over them.
Margaret looked at her son as if she expected the old Ryan to return if she waited long enough.
He didn’t.
Instead, he picked up my phone.
“Show me where the recording starts.”
I opened the file.
The timestamp appeared.
The video began with Margaret entering Room 508 while Ryan was gone.
Her perfume had reached me before she did that afternoon, sweet and heavy enough to make my stomach turn.
Now her voice came from the phone speaker.
“You’re losing your mind, Claire Bennett.”
Ryan’s mouth tightened.
The recording continued.
“After the birth, the baby will live with us.”
