Chapter 4 - Cold Eyes in the ICU
The sterile smell of antiseptic and the monotonous, rhythmic beep of cardiac monitors filled the private room on the tenth floor of Northwestern Memorial Hospital.
Clara opened her eyes to stark white ceiling tiles. A dull, throbbing ache radiated through her entire body, and her throat felt as though it had been scraped with broken glass. An oxygen cannula rested beneath her nostrils, and several monitoring belts were strapped snugly across her bare abdomen.
"Mrs. Montgomery? Can you hear me?"
Clara turned her head weakly. An obstetrician and a trauma nurse stood at her bedside, adjusting the drip rate on an IV pole.
"My... my baby..." Clara whispered, her voice a cracked, raspy shadow of itself.
The doctor offered a warm, reassuring smile, stepping closer to place a hand on Clara’s arm. "Your son is a fighter, Clara. His heart rate dropped precipitously while you were submerged, and we had to administer medications to prevent premature labor, but the fetal monitor shows stable cardiac activity. You both survived. It is nothing short of a miracle."
Clara let out a ragged breath, tears spilling over her temples and soaking into the pillow. "He's alive... thank God, he's alive."
The door to the room hissed open, and Julian rushed in, his eyes rimmed with red, his stubble dark against pale skin. He fell to his knees beside the bed, burying his face in Clara’s free hand, kissing her knuckles repeatedly. "I thought I lost you," he wept. "I thought I lost both of you. Clara, I swear to God, I will never leave your side again."
Clara stroked his hair weakly, but her heart was racing. The monitor beeped faster. "Julian... listen to me..."
"Don't strain yourself, darling," Julian shushed her gently. "The doctor said you need complete rest. The trauma—"
"Julian, no!" Clara’s grip tightened on his wrist with desperate urgency. "It wasn't an accident. The brakes didn't slip."
Julian froze, looking up at her with furrowed brows. "What do you mean?"
"Victoria," Clara choked out, the memory of that icy voice burning into her skull. "Victoria was standing behind me. She whispered in my ear. She said... she said our baby was a parasite who would steal her empire. And then she shoved me. She shoved me into the deep end on purpose!"
Silence descended upon the hospital room, thick and suffocating. Julian stared at his wife, his expression shifting from terror to bewilderment, and then, tragically, to profound pity.
"Clara..." Julian said softly, reaching up to gently cup her cheek. "You were underwater for nearly two minutes. You suffered severe oxygen deprivation. The doctors warned me that hypoxia can cause vivid hallucinations, paranoia..."
"I am not hallucinating!" Clara cried out, her voice cracking with fury and terror. "Julian, look at me! Your sister tried to murder me and your child! She stood at the edge and watched me sink! Why won't you believe me?!"
"Because Victoria was hysterical, Clara!" Julian pleaded, torn between love and filial disbelief. "She was on her knees, screaming for help! She has been in the waiting room for six hours, crying so hard she had to be sedated! Victoria has her flaws, she is ambitious, but she is my sister! She would never murder an unborn child!"
"Wouldn't she?"
A quiet, steady voice spoke from the doorway.
Julian spun around. Standing there, still wearing damp clothes beneath a borrowed hospital jacket, was Maya. Her hands were bruised, her eyes sharp and completely sober.
May you like
"Mr. Montgomery," Maya said, stepping firmly into the room. "Your wife isn't hallucinating. I was standing twenty feet away behind the bar. I saw Victoria Montgomery put both hands on that wheelchair, look around to see if anyone was watching, and shove her into the pool."
***
