Jacob blinked. “What is that?”
Dr. Mason took a breath.
“It’s a medication that can cause uterine contractions. It has legitimate medical uses, but in pregnancy, especially at twenty-eight weeks, exposure without supervision can be dangerous.”
My ears started ringing.
“I didn’t take anything,” I said.
“We understand,” Dr. Mason replied. “That’s why we’re asking. Did anyone give you food, drink, or medication today that tasted unusual?”
The room tilted again.
Thanksgiving dinner.
The kitchen.
The sparkling cider Brenda had poured into my glass before dessert.
She had smiled when she handed it to me.
“Here,” she’d said. “You look like you need something special.”
I had taken three sips before deciding it tasted bitter.
I looked at Jacob.
He saw the realization on my face before I said a word.
“No,” he breathed.
I swallowed hard.
“Brenda gave me cider.”
Jacob stepped back as if someone had struck him.
Dr. Mason’s jaw tightened.
“We’ll need to document that.”
The social worker began writing.
I felt suddenly detached from my own body, as if I were watching the scene from above. The locked balcony was bad enough. Cruel enough. But this was different.
This had not been a cruel impulse.
This had been planned.
Jacob walked to the wall, pressed his palms against it, and bent his head. His shoulders shook once.
“I’m going to kill her,” he whispered.
“Jacob,” Dr. Mason said sharply. “Do not say that here.”
He turned around, tears shining in his eyes. “She tried to hurt my wife. She tried to hurt my child.”
The words landed between us.
For the first time, he had said it without softening it.
Without excuses.
Without the old family fog.
“She tried,” I repeated.
And then the door burst open.
Jacob’s mother, Diane, came in crying, followed by his father, Robert. Brenda stood behind them, arms crossed, face pale but defiant.
“Emma,” Diane sobbed. “Oh my God, sweetheart, we had no idea.”
Brenda’s eyes flicked to the doctor, then to the social worker, then to Jacob.
Something like fear passed over her face.
Only for a second.
Then it vanished.
“This is getting ridiculous,” Brenda said. “She was outside for maybe five minutes.”
Jacob turned on her.
“Forty,” he said.
Brenda blinked.
“What?”
“She was outside for almost forty minutes.”
“That’s impossible.”
“Lily saw her.”
At Lily’s name, Brenda’s mouth shut.
Robert’s face had gone gray. He looked older than I had ever seen him.
“Brenda,” he said slowly, “tell me you didn’t lock that door.”
She scoffed. “She went out there herself.”
“And the lock?”
“She must have—”
“Don’t,” Jacob said.
The word was quiet, but it cut through the room.
Brenda stared at him.
For the first time since I had known her, she looked uncertain around her brother.
Jacob stepped toward her.
“You told me she was resting.”
Brenda lifted her chin. “Because she’s always dramatic. I thought she was trying to make a scene.”
“She was unconscious on the balcony.”
“She shouldn’t have gone outside without a coat.”
Diane gasped. “Brenda.”
“What?” Brenda snapped, turning on her mother. “Everyone thinks it. I’m the only one who says it. She comes into this family, gets pregnant immediately, and suddenly everything revolves around her.”
The social worker’s pen stopped moving.
Dr. Mason said, “Ms. Hale, I need you to leave the room.”
But Brenda did not seem to hear her.
Her eyes had locked on my stomach.
“I was supposed to matter in this family,” she said, voice trembling now. “I was here first. I was the daughter. I was the one who took care of everyone. Then she shows up, and suddenly Mom is knitting baby blankets, Jacob won’t answer my calls, Dad keeps asking about nursery colors—”
Jacob stared at her in disbelief.
“You were jealous of a baby?”
Brenda’s face crumpled, then hardened again.
“You don’t understand.”
“No,” he said. “I finally do.”
Dr. Mason moved closer to the bed, protective, as if Brenda might lunge at me.
Then Diane spoke, barely audible.
“Brenda,” she whispered. “What did you put in Emma’s drink?”
The room froze.
Brenda’s head snapped toward her mother.
“What?”
Diane looked like she regretted speaking the moment the words left her mouth.
Jacob turned slowly.
“Mom,” he said. “Why would you ask that?”
Diane’s lips trembled.
“I— I don’t know. The doctor said—”
“No,” Jacob said. “You asked what she put in Emma’s drink.”
Robert stared at his wife.
“Diane?”
Brenda’s eyes flashed.
“Don’t you dare,” she hissed.
The words hit the room like a slammed door.
