I knew something was wrong the moment Andrew called my name from the top of the staircase. His voice—usually flat, uninterested—carried an unfamiliar tightness. When I turned, Victoria stood beside him, her lips curled into a smile that looked carved from ice.

“Come here, Isabella,” she said. “We need to talk.”

I was six months pregnant. My son kicked gently under my hand. And yet, in that instant, every instinct in my body screamed run.

I didn’t even get the chance.

Andrew’s hand slammed into my shoulder—hard. The world spun. My scream never fully escaped before my back hit the steps, my body folding, tumbling, slamming until everything went black.

When I woke up, fluorescent lights hummed above me. A stabbing pain pulsed in my abdomen. My first thought was not of myself.

“My baby…” I whispered, choking on the words.

A nurse leaned over, her expression soft but cautious. “Your son is alive. Early, but stable. He’s in the NICU.”

I exhaled a sob of relief before exhaustion pulled me back under.

Hours later, through the haze of medication, I heard voices. Familiar ones. I forced my eyes open just enough to see Andrew and Victoria standing in the corner of my dim hospital room.

They weren’t worried. They were furious.

“She should’ve lost that baby,” Victoria hissed. “Now we have to fix this another way.”

“Keep your voice down,” Andrew muttered. “We need her to sign.”

My heart pounded. I shut my eyes, pretending to sleep.

Moments later, they approached my bed. Victoria pressed a stack of legal documents against my tray.

“You’ve failed as a mother,” she said coldly. “Sign this. It grants us temporary custody, and you’ll be admitted to a psychiatric facility—where you belong.”

Andrew wouldn’t even look at me.

My hand trembled as I reached for the pen. They thought I was broken. They thought they’d won.

But they didn’t know what I’d done before the fall. They didn’t know I’d already suspected them. They didn’t know about the tablet beside me, pre-loaded with a coded alert.

As my fingers brushed the pen, I tapped the screen.

CODE RED. LIVE FEED CONFIRMS DURESS.

Ten seconds later, the door burst open.

My lawyer, Michael Grant, strode in alongside the hospital’s Chief of Security.

“Stop,” Michael commanded. “All proceedings are halted.”

Andrew and Victoria froze.

And then Michael said the words that made Victoria’s face drain of color:

“The entire attack was captured on a wide-angle security camera.”

But if they were capable of attempted murder, what would they do when they realized what else I had uncovered?

The moment Michael uttered the word “captured,” Andrew stumbled backward as if struck. Victoria, on the other hand, exploded.

“You can’t do this!” she shrieked at the Chief of Security. “This is a private matter! She’s unstable—everyone knows it!”

Michael didn’t flinch. “Save it for the police.”

Two uniformed officers stepped into the doorway.

Victoria froze.

Andrew grabbed her arm. “Mom, stop talking.”

But her panic only grew. “You idiot! We told you to disable the cameras! Did you forget? Did you—”

“Enough,” Officer Daniels barked. “Both of you, hands where we can see them.”

I lay in the hospital bed, breathing through the dull ache in my abdomen. My son was alive. That was all that mattered. Everything else—the terror, the deception, the months of feeling watched and controlled—slowly hardened into resolve.

Andrew raised his hands, defeated. Victoria fought until the last second, pointing at me.

“She manipulated him! She poisoned my son—”

The officers escorted them out. Their voices faded down the hall.

Silence settled over the room.

Michael approached, lowering his voice. “Isabella, the camera footage is clear. They planned it. Victoria instigated. Andrew pushed. But… there’s more.”

A cold chill crept up my spine. “More?”

He sighed. “When I received your emergency alert, I contacted the private investigator you hired. The one who’s been monitoring their accounts.”

I nodded. I had suspected something for months, ever since I found Victoria snooping through the nursery and Andrew deleting messages off my phone. But I hadn’t expected the truth to be so vast.

Michael continued, “We found evidence of financial fraud. They’ve been draining your joint accounts. And…” He hesitated. “Victoria took out a life insurance policy on you—without your consent.”

A tremor ran through me. “How much?”

“Three million.”

My stomach churned.

If I hadn’t survived…

The pieces snapped together. The sudden interest in my pregnancy. Victoria pushing prenatal vitamins on me. Andrew insisting I move into their house while pregnant. The arguments, the pressure, the isolation.