Chapter 3 - Flashing Lights and Sterile Halls
The waiting room at Memorial Hospital was aggressively bright. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting long shadows across the linoleum floor. Mark sat with his head in his hands, his leg bouncing nervously. Ethan sat beside him, clutching the unopened blue bag.
A doctor in blue scrubs pushed through the swinging double doors.
“Family of Rachel Cole?”
Mark shot to his feet. “I’m her husband. How is she? How’s the baby?”
“Your wife is in critical condition, Mr. Cole,” the doctor said, his tone grim. “Her blood pressure plummeted due to a massive dose of an unprescribed barbiturate. It suppressed her respiratory system, depriving both her and the fetus of oxygen. She’s currently intubated.”
Mark staggered back a step. “A barbiturate? She doesn’t take anything like that.”
“We know,” Detective Grant said, stepping out from the corridor. She looked directly at Mark. “We found traces of liquid sedatives on the spoon used to stir the tea she drank tonight. Tea your mother made.”
Mark’s face twisted in confusion, then horror, then a terrifying, silent rage. “My mother? You think my mother poisoned my wife?”
“She didn't want Rachel here,” Ethan whispered, his voice small but cutting through the tension. Both adults looked down at him. “Grandma told me Rachel was going to throw me away. She told me to hate her.”
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Mark’s fists clenched. He pulled out his phone and stared at a text from his mother, sent just hours ago: Left early. Rachel looked tired. Hope she finally gets some sleep.
“The baby’s heart rate is dropping,” the doctor interrupted, bringing them back to the immediate crisis. “The sedative crossed the placenta. We can’t wait for Rachel to wake up. We are taking her for an emergency Cesarean section right now.”
