Chương 2
“It is if I lie.”
Margaret looked at her. “Are you lying now?”
Olivia’s chin trembled. She pulled the blanket back over herself with her free hand.
Diane moved toward the hallway. “I’ll meet the ambulance at the gate. We do not need police cars alarming the neighbors.”
Margaret caught the calculation beneath the concern. The estate sat behind stone walls and a long curved drive. The neighbors were far enough away that they would not hear the sirens unless someone opened a window. Diane was already thinking about the house staff, the security company, Ethan’s command, and the women at the country club who called one another when an unfamiliar vehicle passed through the gates.
“Leave the gate open,” Margaret said.
Diane’s eyes sharpened. “I know how to admit guests to my own home.”
“It isn’t a social visit.”
Ethan picked up his phone from the dresser.
Margaret pointed at it. “Put it down.”
“You don’t command me.”
“No. But the dispatcher is listening, and she has your name.”
For the first time, Ethan looked uncertain about what Margaret might do.
He placed the phone on the dresser.
The ambulance arrived before the police. Margaret heard tires on gravel, then the distant electronic chime from the estate’s front gate. Olivia began smoothing her nightgown over her belly as if modesty were the largest problem in the room.
“I need something to wear,” she said.
Margaret opened the wardrobe. Dresses hung in careful rows, most of them too structured for late pregnancy. She found a loose gray cardigan and brought it to the bed.
Olivia tried to stand.
Her knees gave way.
Margaret caught her beneath the arms, and Olivia cried out when pressure touched her ribs.
Ethan moved instinctively toward them.
Margaret’s head snapped around.
He stopped.
“I was going to help my wife.”
Olivia’s body stiffened at the word wife.
Margaret eased her back onto the mattress. “She has enough help coming.”
The paramedics entered with quiet efficiency, followed by two local officers. Their presence changed the air. Ethan’s uniform, which had seemed imposing in the bedroom, became a complication he could no longer control. He identified himself by rank before anyone asked.
One officer separated him into the hallway. Diane followed, saying she was the homeowner and needed to explain the family context. The other remained near the door while the paramedics examined Olivia.
When one of them asked how she had been injured, Olivia stared at the champagne blanket.
“I slipped.”
Margaret said nothing.
The paramedic glanced at her, then back at Olivia. “In the shower?”
Olivia nodded.
“How long ago?”
“Tuesday.”
It was Saturday.
“Did you lose consciousness?”
“No.”
“Any bleeding?”
“No.”
“Any contractions?”
“I don’t think so.”
The paramedic’s gaze moved over the bruises without comment. “We need to monitor the baby.”
Olivia looked toward the doorway. Ethan stood beneath the chandelier, speaking to the officer with measured patience. Diane kept close to him, occasionally touching his elbow as if reminding him to remain composed.
“I don’t want him in the ambulance,” Olivia said.
The words were barely audible.
The paramedic heard them.
“So noted.”
Ethan heard them too. His face changed before he forced it smooth.
At the foot of the stairs, Diane intercepted Margaret while Olivia was being carried out on a stretcher.
“You have always disliked him,” Diane said quietly.
Margaret looked toward the front door. Olivia’s pale face was turned toward the ceiling, her dark hair spread across the white pillow.
“This is not about what I think of Ethan.”
“You came into our home, stripped the blankets from a pregnant woman, and called the police before asking what happened.”
“I asked.”
“You accused.”
“She answered.”
“She is frightened and confused.”
“Of whom?”
Diane’s hand returned to her pearls. “Of you, at the moment.”
Margaret studied her. Diane’s makeup remained flawless, but a faint red patch had appeared beneath her left ear.
“You saw the bruises.”
“I saw an injury.”
“You saw several injuries of different ages.”
“I am not a doctor.”
“No. You are his mother.”
Diane’s expression cooled. “And you are hers. We should both be careful not to make this worse.”
Margaret stepped closer. “Worse for whom?”
For the first time, Diane had no immediate answer.
At the hospital, Olivia was placed in a curtained obstetric room where monitors clicked and hummed around her. A broad elastic band held a sensor against her belly. The baby’s heartbeat filled the space in a fast, galloping rhythm.
Olivia cried when she heard it.
Margaret sat beside the bed in her dress uniform, her cap resting across her knees. She had worn the uniform because Ethan’s promotion dinner was supposed to take place that evening at the estate. He had recently been selected for a prestigious assignment in a joint acquisition office outside Boston. Diane had insisted on a family dinner before the formal reception the following week. Olivia had canceled lunch twice, then sent Margaret a message at dawn saying she felt sick but would still appreciate a visit.
The message had ended with, Please don’t tell Ethan I asked you to come early.
Margaret had not understood the significance until she saw Olivia in bed.
Now the sentence repeated in her mind with the exact punctuation her daughter had used.
A nurse photographed the bruises after obtaining Olivia’s consent. Each camera click made Olivia turn her face toward the wall. She answered questions about pain, medications, fetal movement, and recent falls. Her voice remained flat.
When the nurse asked whether she felt safe at home, Olivia said yes.
Margaret looked down at her cap.
The nurse asked whether she wanted Margaret to leave.
“No,” Olivia said quickly.
“Do you want anyone else admitted?”
“No.”
“Your husband is in the waiting area.”
“I know.”
“He has asked for updates.”
Olivia touched the monitor strap. “What did you tell him?”
“That we need your permission to discuss your care.”
May you like
A little air left Olivia’s chest.
The nurse leaned against the counter rather than standing over the bed. She was middle-aged, with gray beginning at her temples and a faint indentation across the bridge of her nose from protective glasses.
