Chapter 8: The Man in Scrubs
The maternity floor went into lockdown.
Steel doors sealed the hallways.
Security guards searched every room while police officers moved through the stairwells.
Dad stood between my bed and the door.
The officer stationed outside ordered him to step back.
“Colonel, let us handle this.”
“I am letting you handle it.”
Dad didn’t move.
A nurse silenced the fetal monitor to keep the room quiet.
Without its steady rhythm, the darkness felt heavier.
My contractions grew stronger.
I tried to breathe through them, but fear tightened every muscle in my body.
Ryan had controlled me for months.
Even now, surrounded by police, he could make me feel trapped in that bedroom again.
Then I heard his voice inside my head.
No one will believe you.
I looked toward Detective Torres.
“Give me my phone.”
“Emily—”
“He wants me afraid. I’m done giving him what he wants.”
Torres handed it over.
I called Ryan’s old number even though police had recovered his phone.
Someone answered.
Neither of us spoke.
Then I heard breathing.
“Ryan.”
The breathing stopped.
“I know you’re in the hospital.”
A low laugh came through the line.
“You always were smarter than Mom thought.”
“You told her my baby wasn’t yours.”
“I told her what she needed to hear.”
“You made her hate me.”
“No. She already hated you. I gave her permission.”
Dad closed his eyes.
I continued.
“You planned to blame her.”
“She was convenient.”
“Vanessa will be convenient too.”
Silence.
“You think you love her,” I said. “But she knows what you did. She has evidence. When the police catch her, she’ll trade you for freedom.”
Ryan’s voice sharpened.
“She won’t betray me.”
“Your own mother did.”
That was a lie.
Linda had provided information, but she had not agreed to testify.
Ryan didn’t know that.
A metal door slammed somewhere outside the room.
Police shouted.
Ryan whispered, “You ruined everything.”
“No. I survived it.”
The call ended.
Detective Torres immediately contacted the technical team.
They traced the signal to the hospital’s fourth floor.
Ryan had entered an unused surgical wing directly beneath us.
Police surrounded the area.
But when they opened the room, they found only a stolen phone connected to a portable speaker.
Ryan had never been on the fourth floor.
He had used the call to pull officers away from maternity.
A crash came from the hallway.
The officer outside my room shouted.
Then the door handle moved.
Dad stepped forward.
The door opened.
A woman in nurse’s clothing stood there holding a syringe.
Vanessa.
She smiled at me.
“Ryan said you’d be difficult.”
Before she could enter, Detective Torres struck her arm aside and forced her against the wall.
The syringe shattered on the floor.
Police dragged Vanessa into the hallway.
But Ryan was not with her.
Then the hospital fire alarm activated.
Through the confusion, a nurse rushed into my room.
“Dr. Walsh sent me. We have to move Emily.”
Dad looked at her badge.
The photograph showed a blonde woman.
The nurse standing in front of us had dark hair.
Dad grabbed the wheelchair before she could touch me.
“Who are you?”
The woman turned and ran.
Police caught her near the stairwell.
She was not a nurse.
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She was an employee from Ryan’s legal team.
And taped beneath her clothing was a duplicate newborn identification bracelet bearing my name.
