Chapter 4

Jada Norman POV:

The world exploded in harsh, blinding light. The steel door, my tormentor and prison, swung inward with a jarring clang. I blinked, my eyes struggling to adjust, to discern reality through the haze of pain and venom.

A man stood framed in the doorway, a figure in crisp white scrubs. Dr. Albright, one of the Manning family's personal physicians. His eyes, when they landed on me, widened in horror. He stumbled back a step, a choked gasp escaping his lips.

"My God!" he whispered, his voice trembling. "Who... who are you? And what on earth could you have done to deserve this?"

His first thought wasn't to help, but to judge. To understand what monstrous act I must have committed to warrant such a brutal punishment. This was the Manning world, where consequences were always tied to perceived transgressions, not simple human suffering.

"I'm... Deegan's wife," I rasped, my voice barely a tremor. My hand, the mangled one, weakly lifted, displaying the platinum wedding band on my finger. The inscription, "Deegan & Jada," was barely visible beneath the smear of dark, congealed blood. A cruel joke.

He recognized the ring, a flicker of something akin to recognition, then doubt, crossing his face. He took a cautious step forward, then stopped, his gaze darting nervously towards the door, as if expecting to be caught. The Mannings' power was absolute, their wrath legendary. No one dared cross them.

He pulled out his phone, his hand visibly shaking as he dialed Deegan's private line. "Sir," he stammered, his voice strained. "It's Dr. Albright. I've found her. Mrs. Manning. She's in critical condition. Losing a lot of blood. I suspect venom... possibly an allergic reaction."

Deegan's voice, even through the speaker, was laced with irritation. "Venom? Don't be absurd, Doctor. It's probably just Kamryn's pet snake. She called me earlier, complaining Jada scratched it. She's always so dramatic." His tone was cold, dismissive. "Jada is perfectly healthy. This is just another one of her ploys to get attention, to try and jump the queue before Karmen. I'll handle it myself."

The line went dead.

Dr. Albright lowered the phone, his eyes, now filled with a genuine pity, met mine. He looked at me, a dying woman, with a flicker of humanity I hadn't seen from anyone in what felt like an eternity. He started to walk past me, towards some equipment. My heart sank. He was leaving.

But then, he stopped. He turned back, his shoulders slumped, his face contorted with an internal struggle. His gaze fell to my swollen belly, then to my mangled hand, then to the pool of blood spreading around me.

"There are two lives here," he muttered, his voice filled with newfound resolve. "I can't just stand by." He clenched his jaw. "My wife... she's also pregnant. I wouldn't want her to face this alone."

He knelt, gently scooping me up from the cold, bloody floor. The movement sent a fresh wave of agony through my body, but a tiny spark of hope flared. He was going to help. He was going to save my baby.

He carried me out of the panic room, through a series of sterile corridors, towards what I knew was the family's private medical center. I exhaled, a ragged, shuddering breath. We were going to make it. My baby was going to be safe.

But when we arrived, he stopped short. We both did. The room was empty.

Completely, horribly, utterly empty.

All the state-of-the-art medical equipment, the IV drips, the surgical table, the life-saving drugs – all of it was gone. Stripped bare.

"Where... where did it all go?" Dr. Albright whispered, his voice laced with confusion, then dawning horror.

The answer, agonizingly clear, slammed into me. Deegan. He had anticipated this. He had moved everything. Every single piece of equipment, every vial of medicine, every tool that could save me and my child, had been relocated. To Karmen's private clinic. Karmen, the queen. While I was left to die.

Everything that could have saved us was gone.