Chapter 2 - The Mother Whose Child Had Been Sold
Eleanor was moved to a guarded room on the hospital’s seventh floor.
Two specialists reviewed the ultrasound and reached the same conclusion.
The transplanted uterus was failing.
The placenta had grown into surrounding tissue and was dangerously close to major blood vessels. Eleanor’s blood pressure remained unstable, but the baby was too premature for an easy delivery.
Every hour created another risk.
Every hour also gave the child more time to develop.
Dr. Caleb Morgan stood beside Eleanor’s bed and explained the choices as honestly as he could.
“We can monitor you in intensive care while preparing blood products and a surgical team. But if the bleeding increases or the baby shows distress, we must deliver immediately.”
Eleanor stared at the ceiling.
“Will I ever be able to carry another child?”
Hannah closed her eyes.
Caleb answered gently.
“No.”
A strange laugh escaped Eleanor.
“I suppose that is a foolish question at sixty-six.”
“It is a human question.”
She touched the curve of her stomach.
“Hope isn’t even her name.”
“You gave her that name,” Hannah said.
“But she isn’t Lila’s.”
“No.”
“I built an entire future around a lie.”
Hannah sat beside her mother.
“You were grieving.”
“I was arrogant.”
“You were manipulated.”
“I wanted to believe him.”
Eleanor turned toward Caleb.
“Why would Dr. Sloane choose me?”
“We don’t know yet.”
“I had no husband asking questions. No job requiring regular health examinations. My neighbors thought I was gaining weight.”
Her eyes filled.
“And if I died, people would say an old woman had made a reckless choice.”
Hannah reached for her hand.
Eleanor pulled away.
“You were right about him.”
“I did not want to be.”
“You called me delusional.”
“I was angry.”
“You tried to have me declared incompetent.”
“I asked the court to stop you from selling the house.”
“To pay for my baby.”
“To pay a criminal.”
The door opened before Eleanor could respond.
Detective Lena Shaw entered with a woman wearing a dark blue coat.
The woman had red hair and a crescent-shaped birthmark near her jaw.
Ava Sterling.
Eleanor recognized her from the photograph.
Her hands moved instinctively over her abdomen.
Ava stopped several feet from the bed.
For a moment, neither woman spoke.
Ava’s eyes filled with tears.
“She’s moving.”
Eleanor’s voice hardened.
“Do not call her yours.”
Ava nodded slowly.
“I won’t.”
“You came to take her.”
“I came because someone used my embryo without my consent.”
“That is the same thing.”
“No.”
Ava removed her coat and placed it over a chair.
“I had leukemia at twenty-nine. Before chemotherapy, Miles and I created embryos because the treatment might make pregnancy impossible.”
She sat near the window rather than approaching the bed.
“After I recovered, our marriage ended. Miles wanted children immediately. I wanted time to rebuild my health and my life.”
“Why did he not use another surrogate?”
“I refused permission.”
Hannah looked at her.
“Could he use the embryos without you?”
“Not legally. The storage agreement required both signatures.”
“What happened after New Dawn closed?” Caleb asked.
“A clinic representative told me a generator failure destroyed everything in one storage room.”
“Dr. Sloane?”
“I never met him in person. He communicated through lawyers.”
Detective Shaw placed a folder on the table.
“We now believe Sloane sold embryos to wealthy clients and illegal fertility brokers. In some cases, he created pregnancies for people who believed they were receiving embryos from deceased relatives.”
Eleanor turned pale.
“How many?”
“We don’t know.”
Ava looked toward her abdomen.
“Miles had access to my medical records and the embryo identification codes. I believe he paid Sloane to use one without telling me.”
“Why?” Hannah asked. “He could not hide a child forever.”
Ava’s expression became bitter.
“My grandfather’s trust transfers control of Sterling Medical to the first biological grandchild born within our family line.”
Caleb stared at her.
“This child is part of an inheritance dispute?”
“To Miles, yes.”
“How much?”
“Control of a corporation worth nine billion dollars.”
Eleanor closed her eyes.
She had believed she was giving life to her dead daughter’s final dream.
Instead, she had been turned into a hidden path toward a fortune.
Ava leaned forward.
“Mrs. Price, I am not here to decide what happens to the baby without you.”
“You are her biological mother.”
“Yes.”
“And Miles is her biological father.”
“Yes.”
“Then where does that leave me?”
Ava looked at the machines surrounding the bed.
“It leaves you as the woman risking her life because two powerful men treated our bodies like paperwork.”
Eleanor’s expression softened slightly.
Detective Shaw took the hidden phone from an evidence bag.
“The messages came through an encrypted service. The device contains photographs of Eleanor entering the hospital, which means someone inside or near this building is watching her.”
Caleb remembered the hospital administrator who arrived with Miles.
“Could Miles have help here?”
“He owns medical-service contracts with three departments,” Ava said. “He has influence everywhere.”
“Why did the message say you could not reach the hospital?” Hannah asked.
Ava hesitated.
“Because I know what happened to Dr. Sloane’s former nurse.”
“What nurse?”
“Lila Price.”
The room became silent.
Eleanor slowly turned toward her.
“My daughter?”
Ava looked at Hannah.
“You didn’t tell her?”
“I didn’t have proof.”
Eleanor pushed herself upright.
“Tell me what you know.”
Ava took a breath.
“Lila worked briefly at New Dawn during the final year of her life.”
Eleanor shook her head.
“She was receiving treatment in Cincinnati.”
“She worked remotely reviewing patient-consent files. She contacted me after noticing signatures that did not match.”
Hannah covered her mouth.
Eleanor looked between them.
“You knew?”
“I found emails on Lila’s old account,” Hannah said. “She was investigating missing embryos.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you were already speaking with Sloane. I thought if I accused him without evidence, you would disappear again.”
Eleanor’s voice broke.
“She died in a traffic accident.”
Ava looked toward Detective Shaw.
The detective answered.
“Her car was struck by a vehicle that left the scene. The case was never solved.”
Eleanor began shaking her head.
“No.”
“Three days before the crash,” Ava continued, “Lila sent me a message saying she had copied the clinic’s real transfer records.”
“Where are they?”
“She never told me.”
Eleanor looked at Hannah.
“You searched her belongings.”
“For months.”
“And found nothing?”
“Nothing that made sense.”
Eleanor pressed one hand against her chest.
“She used to send me library books.”
Hannah stared at her.
“What?”
“During treatment. She said hospital rooms felt less frightening when a book was waiting.”
“What books?”
“Old mysteries. The ones we read when she was a teenager.”
Eleanor looked toward the diaper bag.
“Where is the blue cap?”
Hannah brought it to her.
Eleanor turned the knitted hat inside out.
A small label had been sewn beneath the lining.
It read:
THE LAST CHAPTER IS NEVER ON THE FINAL PAGE.
Hannah went still.
“That was something Lila used to say.”
Eleanor’s eyes widened.
“Dr. Sloane sent me the cap with the embryo records.”
Detective Shaw examined the stitching.
“There’s something inside the seam.”
A nurse brought scissors.
Eleanor flinched but nodded.
The detective opened the seam and removed a tiny key.
No one recognized it.
Then Hannah remembered the old public library where Eleanor had worked for thirty-five years.
After Lila’s death, a memorial box had been placed in the rare-books room.
It held letters from students, photographs, and several of Lila’s favorite novels.
Eleanor had not opened it in years.
Detective Shaw sent officers to the library.
While they waited, Caleb watched Eleanor’s monitor.
Her blood pressure had fallen slightly, but the fetal heart rate showed occasional drops.
They were running out of time.
Two hours later, Shaw received a call.
The key opened a locked compartment beneath the memorial box.
Inside was a flash drive wrapped in a page torn from a mystery novel.
The drive contained patient lists, embryo serial numbers, payment records, and videos of Sloane meeting privately with Miles Sterling.
One video showed Miles handing Sloane a folder.
“We need a carrier no one will connect to us,” Miles said.
Sloane smiled.
“I have someone in mind. An older widow. Recently lost a daughter. Emotionally ideal.”
Eleanor turned away from the screen.
Another video showed Sloane discussing the illegal uterus transplant.
Miles asked what would happen if Eleanor died.
Sloane answered without hesitation.
“At her age, complications will explain everything.”
Ava stood so quickly her chair fell backward.
“He planned her death.”
Detective Shaw stopped the video.
“We have enough to seek arrest warrants.”
“For Miles?” Hannah asked.
“For Miles, Sloane, and anyone who helped arrange the procedures.”
Caleb looked toward the door.
“Then increase security.”
Shaw called the officers in the hallway.
No one answered.
Caleb stepped outside.
The corridor was empty.
A medical transport team appeared near the elevators, pushing an empty stretcher.
The lead attendant held a clipboard.
“We’re transferring Eleanor Price to Sterling Memorial.”
“No transfer was approved,” Caleb said.
The attendant showed him a signed order.
It carried the electronic signature of the hospital’s chief medical officer.
Ava entered the hallway.
“Miles controls Sterling Memorial.”
Caleb turned to the transport team.
“Leave this floor.”
The second attendant reached beneath his jacket.
Detective Shaw saw the movement and drew her weapon.
“Hands where I can see them!”
The hallway erupted.
One man ran toward the stairwell.
The other shoved the stretcher into Shaw and rushed into Eleanor’s room.
Hannah screamed.
Caleb followed.
The man pulled the fetal-monitor cables from Eleanor’s abdomen and attempted to unlock the bed.
Eleanor grabbed the metal water pitcher and struck him across the face.
He stumbled.
Hannah seized the emergency cord and wrapped it around his wrist while Caleb forced him against the wall.
Hospital security arrived seconds later.
The man was restrained.
But during the struggle, Eleanor cried out.
Blood spread across the sheet beneath her.
The fetal monitor sounded a continuous alarm.
Caleb checked the screen.
The baby’s heartbeat was falling.
“We’re delivering now.”
Eleanor gripped his sleeve.
“Save her first.”
“I’m saving both of you.”
They rushed the bed toward surgery.
Ava ran beside Eleanor until the operating-room doors.
Eleanor reached for her hand.
“If I don’t survive…”
“You will.”
“Listen to me.”
Ava stopped.
Eleanor’s face had gone gray.
“Do not let Miles turn her into an inheritance.”
Ava squeezed her hand.
“I promise.”
The doors closed.
Inside, the surgical team prepared for massive bleeding.
Caleb stood near Eleanor’s head while the obstetric surgeon made the first incision.
The baby’s heartbeat weakened again.
Then disappeared from the monitor.
“Move faster,” Caleb said.
The surgeon reached into the failing transplanted uterus.
A moment later, she lifted a tiny, silent baby into the room.
No cry came.
No movement.
The neonatal team began resuscitation.
Eleanor searched every face.
“Why isn’t she crying?”
No one answered.
Then the blood pressure monitor sounded.
Eleanor’s pressure collapsed.
Caleb looked from the motionless newborn to the woman bleeding on the operating table.
May you like
For one terrible second, it appeared both lives would be lost.
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