PART 3
My heart sank. “What does that imply?” “It means I prefer not to guess.”
Sophie glanced toward me. “Mom?” I bent forward. “I am here.” “Am I pregnant?”
I swallowed hard. “We are going to find out.” “But everyone keeps looking at me as if I did something wrong.”
“You did not.” “Then why is Dad shouting at Mr. Daniel?”
I had no response.
Because I was asking myself that exact same question.
Eric had never fully trusted Daniel.
Not completely.
I had told myself it was simply because Eric had never accepted our divorce.
Yet now, sitting in that dim room beside my ten-year-old daughter, a different thought crossed my mind.
Perhaps Eric knew something I did not.
The door swung open.
A woman wearing a white coat walked in.
“I am Dr. Patel, the radiologist.”
She pulled her stool closer to the monitor.
“I have checked the scans.”
I felt Sophie tighten her grip on my hand.
“And?” Dr. Patel watched me closely.
“There is no pregnancy.”
I nearly slumped against the bed.
“What?”
“There is no gestational sac. No embryo. No sign of a pregnancy.”
Sophie blinked.
“Then why did the test result say yes?”
Dr. Patel looked at me.
“That is precisely what we must figure out.”
My sense of relief lasted barely three seconds.
Because Dr. Patel kept speaking.
“Sophie does show an unusually high beta-hCG level.”
I stared at her.
“What causes that?”
“Several factors. Some are harmless. Others are not.”
The room seemed to close in around me.
“Such as?”
Dr. Patel hesitated.
“Certain ovarian conditions can generate hCG. Rare tumors can do so as well. There are also lab errors and medication-related reasons.”
I felt a wave of nausea.
“You believe my daughter has a tumor?”
“No. I am stating we have not pinpointed the cause yet.”
Sophie started to weep.
“I do not want to die.”
I pulled her into my arms right away.
“You are not dying.”
“You cannot know that.”
“No,” I whispered. “I do not. But we are going to find out.”
Dr. Patel stepped out to schedule more imaging.
For several minutes, neither of us spoke.
Then Sophie whispered something that made every hair on my arms stand up.
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“Can I tell you something?”
“Anything.”
She gazed up at the ceiling.
“Please do not tell Dad.”
My heart stopped.
“Which dad?”
“Eric.”
I slowly settled down beside her.
“What is it you do not want him to know?”
She looked toward the doorway.
“He said I should not talk about it.”
My mouth felt dry.
“Who said?”
Sophie remained silent.
I lowered my voice.
“Sophie, darling, you need to tell me.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“It was before.”
“Before what?”
“Before today.”
My hands grew cold.
“Before the hospital?”
She nodded.
“Who told you to keep quiet?”
She looked straight at me.
“Dad.”
For a moment, I could not catch my breath.
Eric.
My former husband.
Sophie had called him Dad since she was four years old.
He was not her biological father, but he had always insisted that biology meant nothing.
He had fought for joint custody after we split up.
He went to her school plays.
He assisted with homework.
He took her camping.
He knew her favorite cereal and the name of her stuffed rabbit.
He was the very man who had just pointed at Daniel and demanded his arrest.
And now my daughter was telling me that Eric had warned her to keep a secret.
“What did he tell you to keep quiet about?”
Sophie squeezed her eyes shut.
“He said if I told you, you would get scared.”
“What would make me scared?”
“He said something happened at his place.”
My heart hammered against my ribs.
“What happened?”
“I am not sure.”
“You know something.”
She began to tremble.
“Mom, I did not understand it.”
“That is all right.”
“He told me I had to promise.”
“What did you promise?”
“That I would not tell you about the medicine.”
I stared at her.
“What medicine?”
Sophie pointed toward her backpack.
“The pink one.”
I remembered it instantly.
The small bottle of vitamins Eric had dropped off roughly three weeks prior.
He had claimed they were children’s vitamins because Sophie had seemed tired.
I had never questioned it.
Why would I?
He was her father.
At least, that was what I had believed.
I got to my feet.
“Where is the bottle?”
“Inside my backpack.”
I reached for it.
My hands were shaking so violently I nearly dropped it.
I unzipped the backpack.
A pink plastic bottle rolled out.
The label looked entirely ordinary.
Children’s multivitamin.
I picked it up.
Then I spotted something odd.
The safety seal had already been broken.
And the label appeared slightly crooked.
I flipped it over.
There was no pharmacy sticker.
No manufacturer details.
No lot number.
Nothing.
Only a handwritten mark in black marker:
S-10
My stomach churned.
“What is this?”
Sophie whispered, “Dad said it was medicine to help me grow.”
I stared at the bottle.
Then I heard a knock.
A nurse walked in.
“Mrs. Morgan?”
“Yes?”
“Detective Harris would like to speak with you.”
My gaze shifted to Sophie.
“Why?”
The nurse hesitated.
“He received an initial report from the lab.”
“What report?”
She glanced at the bottle in my hand.
“That one.”
My blood ran cold.
Detective Harris was waiting in a compact consultation room.
He was in his late forties, featuring tired eyes and a notebook tucked under one arm.
He did not look at me as though I were the mother of an ailing child.
He looked at me like a witness.
“Mrs. Morgan, I am going to ask you a few questions.”
“Regarding my daughter?”
“Yes.”
“Regarding Daniel?”
“Eventually.”
I sat down.
“What did the lab discover?”
He did not reply right away.
Instead, he pointed at the bottle.
“Where did you get this?”
“It belongs to Sophie.”
“Who gave it to her?”
“My ex-husband.”
“Eric?”
“Yes.”
“How long has she been taking it?”
“About three weeks.”
“How often?”
“Once a day, I believe.”
“You believe?”
“He gave it to her when she stayed at his house.”
Detective Harris jotted something down.
“Did you ever inspect what was inside?”
“No.”
“Did you know the contents?”
“Vitamins.”
“Did Eric tell you that?”
“Yes.”
The detective leaned back.
“Mrs. Morgan, the preliminary toxicology screen suggests this may not be a vitamin supplement.”
I felt the room tilt sideways.
“What is it?”
“We are awaiting confirmation.”
“What does it do?”
“We do not know yet.”
I stood up.
“Then find out.”
“We are trying.”
“My daughter has an elevated hCG level. She suffers from headaches and vomiting. And you are telling me the bottle her father provided might contain something else?”
“Yes.”
I slammed my palm onto the table.
“Then arrest him.”
The detective did not react.
“That is not how an investigation works.”
“Eric accused Daniel with zero evidence!”
“I am aware.”
“He tried to get an innocent man locked up.”
“I know.”
“Then why is Eric not sitting in this room?”
“He is being interviewed downstairs.”
I stared at him.
“Where?”
“Downstairs.”
I headed toward the door.
“Mrs. Morgan.”
I paused.
“There is something else.”
“What is it?”
Detective Harris opened his notebook.
“We checked the hospital records.”
My heart pounded.
“Okay.”
“Sophie was brought to this facility once before.”
I frowned.
“When?”
“Three months ago.”
“No.”
He looked straight at me.
“She was treated in pediatric urgent care for dizziness and vomiting.”
“That was not this hospital.”
“Yes, it was.”
I shook my head.
“I would remember.”
“You were not listed as the accompanying adult.”
Silence filled the room.
“Who was?”
Detective Harris looked at me.
“Eric.”
I could not speak.
Three months ago.
The headaches.
The vomiting.
The fatigue.
The unexplained bruises on her arm.
I had asked Eric about them previously.
He had claimed Sophie fell off her bicycle.
I had believed him.
Because I had no reason to doubt it.
Detective Harris closed his notebook.
“Mrs. Morgan, I need you to think very carefully.”
“About what?”
“Has anyone else ever given Sophie medication?”
I stared at the pink bottle.
Then a memory surfaced.
A tiny detail.
Something I had completely forgotten about.
Roughly a month ago, I walked into the kitchen at Eric’s house to pick Sophie up early.
Eric had been standing near the counter.
He was holding a syringe.
I asked what it was.
He laughed it off.
“It is just medicine. Sophie has a vitamin deficiency.”
I had accepted his explanation.
Because the alternative seemed impossible.
Now my stomach twisted.
“There was a syringe.”
Detective Harris leaned forward.
“What type?”
“I am not sure.”
“Did it feature a label?”
“I could not see one.”
“Where was it?”
“In his hand.”
“What did he do with it?”
“He placed it inside a drawer.”
The detective stood up immediately.
“Where is that drawer?”
“At his residence.”
“Does Eric live there alone?”
“Yes.”
Detective Harris reached for his phone.
“I am going to need a warrant.”
My voice cracked.
“Detective?”
He stopped.
“If Eric did not hurt her, why would he give her anything?”
The detective studied me for several seconds.
“We do not know.”
Then he uttered something that made my blood run cold.
“Yet whatever is happening to your daughter may have started much earlier than today.”
Two hours later, the hospital hallway looked entirely different.
Eric was gone.
Daniel remained.
He sat alone on a plastic chair beneath a vending machine, gazing at the floor.
When he noticed me, he stood up.
“Is she all right?”
I could not answer right away.
He studied my face.
“What happened?”
I walked toward him.
“Eric pointed the finger at you.”
“I know.”
“He told the police to lock you up.”
“I know.”
“Why?”
Daniel swallowed hard.
“I do not know.”
I observed him closely.
“You keep repeating that.”
“Because it is the truth.”
“Have you ever hurt Sophie?”
His face crumpled.
“Never.”
“Have you ever given her medication?”
“No.”
“Have you ever been alone with her?”
“Not without you present.”
That reply made me pause.
Daniel looked at me.
“I know what you are thinking.”
“What am I thinking?”
“That perhaps I am guilty.”
I stayed silent.
He took a slow breath.
“Then ask me anything.”
So I did.
And Daniel answered every single question.
He had never taken Sophie anywhere by himself.
He had never administered medicine to her.
He had never touched her inappropriately.
He had never even helped her change clothes when she was younger.
He had always acted with caution.
Because he knew how protective Eric was.
When he finished, I sat beside him.
“Why would Eric accuse you?”
Daniel glanced toward the closed hospital door.
“I believe I know why.”
My head snapped toward him.
“What?”
He hesitated.
“Three months ago, I confronted Eric.”
“About what?”
“He was taking Sophie somewhere.”
“Where?”
“I am not certain.”
“Daniel.”
“I followed them.”
My heart began to race.
“You followed my daughter?”
“I followed Eric.”
“Why?”
“Because I saw him meet a man behind a medical office.”
“What man?”
“I have no idea.”
“What medical office?”
Daniel rubbed his forehead.
“Somewhere just outside the city.”
“Why did you fail to mention this to me?”
“Because I lacked proof.”
“And now?”
He looked right at me.
“Now I believe whatever occurred that day is connected to your daughter’s blood.”
Before I could reply, a doctor hurried toward us.
“Mrs. Morgan?”
I stood up.
“Yes?”
“We need you upstairs.”
“Why?”
The doctor’s face was pale.
“Sophie’s condition just shifted.”
My heart stopped.
“What happened?”
“She started bleeding.”
Daniel stood right behind me.
“Is she going to be okay?”
The doctor looked between the two of us.
“We do not know yet.”
Then, from inside the room, we heard Sophie scream out.
“Mom!”
I ran.
And as I pushed the door open, I saw the blood on the hospital sheets.
Yet what frightened me most was not the blood.
It was the expression on Dr. Ortiz’s face.
She was staring at the monitor.
And whispering to herself:
“This is not a pregnancy.”
She looked up at me.
“It is something else entirely.”
Then she pointed at the screen.
“We found a mass.”
PART 4
The room fell quiet after Dr. Ortiz uttered the word mass.
I stared at the ultrasound screen, trying to make sense of the collection of gray and black shapes that meant nothing to me.
“A mass where?”
Dr. Ortiz pointed carefully at the monitor.
“Near the left ovary.”
My knees nearly buckled.
“Is it cancerous?”
“We cannot say yet.”
“Then tell me what you do know.”
She looked at Sophie.
“We know this is not a normal pregnancy. We know the tissue is producing beta-hCG, which accounts for the positive tests. And we know the bleeding means we must investigate immediately.”
Sophie was crying softly.
“Mom, am I sick?”
I rushed to her side.
“No matter what happens, I am right here.”
“Yet they keep saying things.”
“I understand.”
“Am I going to die?”
I looked at Dr. Ortiz.
She shook her head gently.
“We do not know that, sweetie. Right now, we are going to take care of you.”
The door opened.
A nurse walked in with another physician.
Behind them stood Detective Harris.
And trailing Detective Harris was Daniel.
Eric was nowhere to be seen.
The detective looked at the doctor.
“Is she stable?”
“For the moment.”
He nodded.
Then he turned his attention toward me.
“Mrs. Morgan, I need to speak with you in private.”
I shook my head.
“Not right now.”
“I understand.”
“My daughter is bleeding.”
“I am aware.”
“Then do not ask me questions.”
He lowered his voice.
“We searched Eric’s house.”
Everything inside me froze.
“What?”
“We secured a warrant.”
My mouth went dry.
“What did you find?”
Detective Harris looked at Daniel.
Then back at me.
“A locked refrigerator in the garage.”
I stared at him.
“What is inside?”
“We are still processing it.”
“Then why bring it up?”
“Because a medication vial was inside.”
My heart pounded.
“What medication?”
“We are waiting on the lab results.”
I glanced down at the pink bottle still resting on the counter.
“Was there a syringe present?”
“Yes.”
My stomach turned.
“Anything else?”
Detective Harris hesitated.
“A notebook.”
“What sort 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 fluctuations. Hormonal changes.”
I could barely breathe.
“He was tracking her.”
Detective Harris offered no reply.
He did not have to.
I looked at Sophie.
She was watching us intently.
She had heard every word.
“Mom?”
I walked over to her instantly.
“Do not worry about anything they are saying.”
“Yet Dad keeps a notebook about me?”
I could not lie to her.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I do not know.”
She began to cry again.
Daniel stepped closer.
“I am here, Sophie.”
She looked up at him.
“Did I do something wrong?”
Daniel’s expression broke.
“No.”
“Then why is everyone acting like I did?”
“You did nothing wrong.”
He sat beside her.
“You did not do a single thing wrong.”
Sophie reached for his hand.
He took it.
And for the first time since this nightmare began, I realized something important.
Sophie trusted Daniel.
Completely.
That mattered.
Because children often recognize who makes them feel safe long before adults admit what is right in front of them.
That evening, surgeons took Sophie into another room for an emergency procedure.
I was not permitted to accompany her.
The doors to the operating room remained shut while I stared at the red indicator light above them.
Daniel sat beside me.
Neither of us spoke.
After twenty minutes, he finally whispered:
“I should have told you.”
I turned toward him.
“Told me what?”
“About Eric.”
I stared at him hard.
“What specifically did you know?”
Daniel rubbed his hands together.
“I knew he was seeing someone.”
“Someone?”
“A doctor.”
My heart sank.
“Which doctor?”
“I do not know her name.”
“Daniel.”
“I swear to you.”
“Then tell me everything.”
He took a breath.