Chapter 3After He Poisoned My Baby, I Unleashed Hell

Tom and Jessica walked out, taking the monster they called a son with them.

I had fought, I had screamed, I had begged for justice for my daughter.

And my husband’s response was, “Stop making a scene.”

I stared at the man I had married, a hollow, soul-crushing despair washing over me. I had once believed, so naively, that he was the man I could lean on for the rest of my life.

I had been so blind.

A few minutes later, the ambulance arrived. There was no more time to think. I rode with my daughter to the hospital, a storm of terror and grief raging inside me.

She was in surgery for nearly thirty hours.

The moment the doctor walked out of the operating room was the most terrifying of my life. I prayed with every fiber of my being. Please, let my daughter be okay. I’ll give up thirty years of my own life, just let her be okay.

But fate had a cruel joke to play.

The doctor’s face was grim. His words were heavy.

“We did everything we could. She didn’t make it.”

Just a few words. But they felt like a thousand knives plunging into my heart all at once.

In that instant, my world collapsed.

“My baby…” I pushed past him into the room, clinging to my daughter’s lifeless body, a grief so total it felt like my insides were being torn out. The pain was unbearable, and I fainted.

When I woke up, the hospital room was empty. From the hallway, I could faintly hear my husband’s voice on the phone.

“Tom, Jessica, don’t worry,” he was saying, his tone gentle and reassuring. “It was just an accident. Ethan is my nephew. Of course I’m not going to call the police on him. I’ll handle Clara. You two just try not to worry too much. And tell Ethan not to be scared.”

His words were more painful than any physical blow.

Our daughter was dead, murdered by that monster, and he was comforting the killers? Telling them not to be scared?

My baby wasn’t even a month old.

Was this man even human?

A tidal wave of rage crashed over me. I ripped the IV from my arm, stumbled out of bed, and burst into the hallway. I snatched the phone from his hand and screamed into it, my voice raw with hate. “My daughter is dead! I am calling the police!”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Michael snarled, grabbing the phone back. He quickly spoke into it, “Tom, Jessica, don’t mind her, she’s just upset. I’ll talk to her. I’ll call you back.”

He hung up and turned to me. “Michael, do you even hear yourself?” I demanded, tears of rage and disbelief streaming down my face.

I never could have imagined that the man I had chosen, the man I had loved, was a cold-blooded, heartless animal.

His own daughter was dead, and instead of seeking justice, he was calling me crazy for wanting it.

“Clara, it was an accident,” he said, his voice softening into a placating tone. “Ethan didn’t mean to do it.”