The scent of antiseptic in the hospital room was suffocating. I lay beneath the thin paper blanket, my lower body numb, my heart broken into a million jagged pieces.

The county courtroom was packed on Tuesday morning for Margaret Crawford’s bail hearing. The local media had caught wind of the story—a high-society matriarch accused of pushing her pregnant daughter-in-law down the stairs.

Margaret sat at the defense table, wearing a dark navy suit, her hair perfectly styled, playing the role of a fragile, heartbroken grandmother. Beside her sat Arthur Sterling, one of the most expensive criminal defense attorneys in the state.

Daniel sat in the front row of the gallery directly behind her, looking polished and solemn.

When I walked into the courtroom leaning lightly on Victoria’s arm, Daniel’s eyes locked onto mine. He gave me a look of deep disappointment, as if I was the villain who had betrayed the family. I didn't flinch. I sat on the prosecution's side of the gallery, staring straight ahead.

“Your Honor,” Sterling began, standing before the judge. “My client, Margaret Crawford, is a pillar of this community. She is sixty-eight years old, suffers from severe cardiac issues, and has no prior criminal record. The allegations made by Mrs. Crawford are the unfortunate result of a tragic accident compounded by emotional instability following a miscarriage.”

“Emotional instability?” Victoria whispered angrily beside me.

Sterling continued smoothly. “We request that Mrs. Crawford be released on her own recognizance or a nominal bond so she may seek proper medical care.”

The prosecutor, Assistant District Attorney Marcus Vance, stepped forward.

“Your Honor, the State strongly opposes bail,” Vance said sharply. “This was not an accident. We have submitted forensic digital evidence—video and audio retrieved from the scene—showing the defendant explicitly threatening the victim seconds before the assault.”

Sterling stood up. “That video is unauthenticated, Your Honor! It was taken from an illegal hidden device installed without my client’s knowledge or consent!”

“The device was installed in a home owned jointly by the victim, who granted full access to law enforcement,” Vance countered. “Furthermore, we have reason to believe the defendant poses a severe flight risk.”

“Flight risk?” Sterling scoffed. “She is an elderly woman with no assets outside her home!”

“That is incorrect, Your Honor,” Vance said, stepping forward with a fresh manila folder. “Just two hours ago, state investigators discovered that Mrs. Crawford holds active bank accounts in the Cayman Islands under the name MC Horizon Holdings, containing over $300,000 transferred within the last forty-eight hours.”

The courtroom erupted into quiet murmurs.

Daniel slammed his hand onto his knee, turning pale. He shot a frantic glance at his mother, who suddenly looked very old and very afraid.

I caught Daniel’s eye from across the aisle and gave him a faint, razor-thin smile. Clara had provided the signature cards for her father’s estate trust yesterday afternoon, allowing the forensic team to flag the offshore wire attempts just in time.

Judge Rebecca Thorne slammed her gavel down hard. “Quiet in the gallery!”

She looked over her glasses at Margaret Crawford with sharp disdain.

“Given the severity of the charges—including two counts of murder of an unborn child—and the clear evidence of hidden international funds, bail is set at five million dollars. Defendant will surrender her passport immediately.”

Gavel stroke. BAM.

Margaret turned toward Daniel, panic written all over her face as the bailiff stepped forward with handcuffs. “Daniel! Do something! Call Uncle Richard! Daniel!”