CHAPTER 3 THREE HEARTBEATS
The ambulance doors slammed shut.
A paramedic named Luis sat beside me while another drove through the evening traffic. He fastened monitors across my stomach and adjusted the oxygen mask over my face.
“Evelyn, stay with me,” he said. “Can you tell me how many weeks pregnant you are?”
“Thirty-four.”
“Twins?”
I nodded.
“Sophie and Lucas.”
Luis glanced at the monitor.
For one second, his expression shifted.
It was small.
Barely noticeable.
But I saw it.
“What?” I demanded.
“We have two fetal heart rates.”
“Are they okay?”
“One is strong. The other is showing distress.”
The words sliced through me more deeply than any blow Brianna had delivered.
“Which baby?”
“We can’t determine that here.”
I grabbed his sleeve.
“Don’t let either of them die.”
“We’re doing everything we can.”
The ambulance swerved around traffic.
Luis inserted an IV and asked questions about allergies, previous pregnancies, and medical conditions. I answered automatically, but my mind remained in the kitchen.
Brianna’s fist.
Patricia’s voice.
Is everything finished?
They had planned it.
Possibly for days.
Maybe weeks.
The trust account had been created only eleven days earlier.
Ryan had left for Singapore three days after that.
Had Patricia encouraged the trip?
Had she known exactly when I would be alone?
A sharp pain tore through my abdomen.
Luis checked the monitor again.
“We’re five minutes out.”
“I need my husband.”
“The hospital will contact him.”
“He’s in Singapore.”
“We’ll reach him.”
My eyelids felt heavy.
Luis tapped my shoulder.
“Do not go to sleep.”
“I’m tired.”
“I know, but I need you awake.”
The ambulance stopped so suddenly that equipment shifted against the wall.
The rear doors opened.
A medical team pulled my stretcher into a brightly lit emergency entrance.
Voices surrounded me.
“Thirty-four-week twin gestation.”
“Blunt abdominal trauma.”
“Premature rupture of membranes.”
“Possible placental abruption.”
The ceiling lights passed above me in rapid white flashes as they rushed me down the corridor.
A woman in blue surgical scrubs appeared at my side.
“I’m Dr. Maya Chen. We need to perform an emergency cesarean section.”
“Are my babies alive?”
“They both have heartbeats, but one is weakening.”
“Save them.”
“We will do everything medically possible.”
A nurse held a consent form near my hand.
My fingers shook so badly I could barely grip the pen.
Before I signed, Dr. Chen leaned closer.
“Evelyn, the trauma may have caused internal bleeding. You could require a transfusion or additional surgery. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Is there anyone you want us to contact?”
“Ryan Brooks. My husband.”
The nurse wrote down the number I gave her.
“And the police,” I said. “My sister-in-law attacked me. My mother-in-law helped her.”
The nurse’s expression remained professional, but her eyes softened.
“Officers are already on their way.”
They wheeled me into surgery.
Cold air brushed against my skin.
Bright lamps burned overhead.
An anesthesiologist explained that because of the urgency and my condition, they would place me under general anesthesia.
“Count backward from ten,” he said.
“Ten.”
I thought of Sophie’s nursery with yellow curtains.
“Nine.”
I thought of Lucas’s tiny blue blanket folded inside the crib.
“Eight.”
I thought of Ryan touching my stomach before leaving for the airport.
“I’ll be back before they arrive,” he had promised.
“Seven.”
The world disappeared.
When I woke, a machine was beeping beside me.
My mouth felt dry.
Pain pulsed through my abdomen.
For several seconds, I could not remember where I was.
Then everything returned at once.
The kitchen.
The assault.
The twins.
I tried to sit up.
A nurse hurried toward me.
“Easy, Evelyn.”
“My babies.”
“They’re alive.”
My entire body collapsed with relief.
“Both?”
“Yes. Both.”
I began crying.
The nurse placed a hand on my shoulder.
“Your daughter, Sophie, weighs four pounds, two ounces. Your son, Lucas, weighs three pounds, eleven ounces. They are in the neonatal intensive care unit.”
“Are they healthy?”
“They are premature and experienced significant stress. Sophie is breathing with support. Lucas required more intervention after delivery, but he is stable.”
“Can I see them?”
“Not yet. You lost a substantial amount of blood, and the surgical team had to repair damage caused by partial placental separation. You need to remain monitored.”
I closed my eyes.
“They almost died.”
“But they didn’t.”
“Ryan?”
The nurse hesitated.
“We have been trying to reach him. His phone is going directly to voicemail.”
That did not make sense.
Ryan kept his phone on at all times during business travel.
“Call his hotel.”
“We’re working on it.”
A soft knock came from the doorway.
Two police officers entered.
One was a middle-aged man named Detective Harris. The other was a younger woman, Officer Monroe.
“Mrs. Brooks,” Detective Harris said, “I’m sorry to question you so soon, but we need to know what happened.”
I told them everything.
Brianna arriving with forged documents.
The demand for access to the trust.
The first slap.
The blow to my stomach.
The forced biometric attempt.
Patricia arriving afterward.
Their plan to drag me into the basement.
The phone call Patricia made to an unknown person.
When I mentioned the camera, Detective Harris nodded.
“Your neighbor directed us to it. We obtained a warrant through the emergency process and contacted the security provider. The video has been preserved.”
“Did you watch it?”
“Part of it.”
His jaw tightened.
“Is it enough?”
“It appears to be very strong evidence.”
“Then arrest them.”
“We are searching for both women.”
“What do you mean searching?”
“They are not at their homes. Mrs. Patricia Brooks’s vehicle was found abandoned approximately six miles away.”
My stomach tightened.
“They ran.”
“Yes.”
Officer Monroe stepped closer.
“We also recovered your phone from beneath the kitchen cabinet. The trust security company has preserved the failed login records.”
“What about the documents?”
“Your neighbor photographed several pages before the suspects removed them. We are also checking your home printer and computer systems.”
I remembered Patricia’s call.
“There’s another person.”
“We heard the call on the footage,” Detective Harris said. “The other person could not be identified from the audio.”
“She said, ‘Then handle it.’”
“We are tracing her communications.”
A hospital administrator appeared in the doorway.
“Mrs. Brooks, we finally reached your husband’s company.”
My heart jumped.
“Where is he?”
“There may be a problem.”
“What kind of problem?”
“Mr. Brooks did not arrive at the Singapore meeting this morning.”
The room went completely still.
“That’s impossible.”
The administrator held a tablet against her chest.
“His colleagues said he checked into his hotel last night. He was expected at a negotiation session at eight this morning, but he never appeared.”
I stared at her.
“Did they check his room?”
“The hotel entered it after receiving our call.”
“And?”
“He was not there.”
The detective exchanged a glance with Officer Monroe.
“Mrs. Brooks,” he said carefully, “was there anyone who might want to harm your husband?”
I wanted to say no.
Ryan was respected.
Successful.
Generous.
He had spent fifteen years building Brooks Urban Development from a small contracting company into a regional powerhouse.
But his business had grown complicated.
Investors.
Partners.
Competitors.
Family members who believed his success belonged to them.
Then I remembered something Patricia had said.
Ryan does not know yet.
Not Ryan isn’t answering.
Not Ryan will be furious.
She had known he could not be reached.
I looked at Detective Harris.
“My mother-in-law knew.”
“Knew what?”
“She knew Ryan wasn’t available.”
“How can you be sure?”
“When I told them the trust was locked, Patricia called someone. She said Ryan didn’t know yet. She wasn’t surprised that he hadn’t contacted us.”
Officer Monroe opened her notebook.
“Do you believe your husband’s disappearance may be connected to the attempted theft?”
“Yes.”
The answer frightened me as soon as I said it.
A nurse entered quickly.
“Mrs. Brooks, your blood pressure is dropping.”
“I need to see my babies.”
“You need rest.”
“I need my husband found.”
Detective Harris closed his notebook.
“We’re contacting federal authorities because he disappeared internationally. We will also inform Singapore police.”
He turned toward the door, then stopped.
“There is one more thing.”
“What?”
“We found financial records in the folder your neighbor photographed. They weren’t limited to the twins’ trust.”
A cold sensation spread through my chest.
“What were they?”
“Proposed transfers involving your husband’s company.”
“How much?”
“Based on the pages we could read, more than eleven million dollars.”
I stared at him.
The $150,000 trust had never been the real target.
It had been a test.
A doorway.
If Brianna could force me to authorize one fraudulent withdrawal, the document could make it appear that I willingly approved transfers for the family.
And if Ryan remained missing, Patricia might gain access to his corporate authority through emergency provisions.
“Detective,” I whispered, “they didn’t only try to steal from my babies.”
“No.”
“They’re trying to take everything Ryan owns.”
The heart monitor beside me began beeping faster.
Officer Monroe stepped closer.
“We will find them.”
But I barely heard her.
May you like
Because on the other side of the world, my husband had vanished.
And for the first time, I wondered whether Patricia and Brianna had ever expected either of us to survive.
