Chapter 4

In the car, the city lights blurring past, I unscrewed the cap of the water bottle Chloe had given me, the seal was already broken, a faint, chemical odor hit my nostrils. My blood ran cold, it wasn't just water, Chloe wouldn't be so simple, this was meant to harm me, to harm my baby, and to make it look like Sterling was responsible, her cruelty knew no bounds.

My hand tightened on my small clutch purse, inside, a burner phone, I' d prepared it weeks ago, a lifeline. My fingers fumbled with the buttons, my other hand pressed against my stomach where a dull ache was beginning, I typed a short, coded text: "S.O.S. Nightingale. Package compromised. Urgent." Liam, he was my only hope, he had to get this, he had to understand.

The journey was long, winding up into the hills, the dull ache in my abdomen intensified, becoming sharp, cramping pains, nausea rose in my throat. I was sweating, then shivering, by the time the car passed through imposing iron gates and pulled up to a sprawling, modern mansion – The Sanctuary – I was barely holding on, waves of dizziness washing over me. This wasn't just a "collection" place, it was a fortress.

As the security men helped me out of the car, I heard hushed voices from the staff gathered at the entrance.

"Is that her? The one Mr. Sterling summoned?"

"She looks terrible, what happened?"

Their whispers confirmed the rumors, the fear surrounding this place, but their concern also underscored how ill I was.

I swayed, leaning heavily on the guard, my vision tunneled, I had to stay conscious, just a little longer. I scanned the faces, searching, there, a familiar, austere figure standing slightly apart from the others, observing, Mr. Finch, Sterling's head of staff. I remembered him from years ago, from the time I helped a young, struggling artist, Liam's friend.

Just as I focused on Finch, a commanding voice cut through the hushed tones.

"What is the meaning of this? Why is she in this state?"

Mr. Donovan Sterling himself strode out from the house, he wasn't the leering monster of rumor, but an imposing man in his late sixties, his eyes sharp and filled with an unexpected, immediate concern as he looked at me.

Before I could speak, before Finch could react to my desperate gaze, a wave of agony ripped through me, I cried out, clutching my stomach. A woman in medical scrubs rushed forward, checking my pulse.

"Sir, she's hemorrhaging, her blood pressure is dropping, it looks like she was given something... an abortifacient."

The word hung in the air, my baby, Chloe' s poison, the world went black.

"Get her inside, now!" Sterling's voice boomed, no longer just authoritative, but laced with raw fury and alarm.

"Dr. Ramirez, do whatever it takes! Finch, find out who did this to her! I want answers!"

The last thing I heard was the urgency in his voice, a strange counterpoint to the darkness enveloping me.