PART 4 — The Fourth Floor Was Never for the Baby
The elevator doors closed on Rachel’s scream.
“DO NOT LET THEM TAKE YOU TO THE FOURTH FLOOR!”
Emma gripped the sides of the stretcher as another contraction tightened across her abdomen.
“What does she mean?” Emma gasped.
Neither paramedic answered immediately.
One checked her blood pressure while the other spoke rapidly into a radio.
“Thirty-two-year-old female, approximately thirty-six weeks pregnant, contractions less than four minutes apart, possible rupture of membranes, possible unknown substance exposure.”
Emma grabbed his wrist.
“Please.”
He looked down at her.
“My baby is in danger.”
“We’re going to take care of both of you.”
“Not St. Catherine’s.”
The paramedic hesitated.
“What?”
“Do not take me there.”
“Ma’am, that’s the closest hospital equipped—”
“No!”
Emma’s voice echoed through the elevator.
She forced herself upright despite the pain.
“There are people waiting for me there.”
The paramedics exchanged a look.
The elevator opened into the courthouse lobby.
Two deputies were already waiting.
One of them approached the stretcher.
“The investigator called ahead. Change of destination.”
Emma nearly cried with relief.
“Where?”
“Riverside Methodist.”
One paramedic nodded and immediately updated dispatch.
Emma was rushed through the courthouse doors.
Outside, rain had begun falling.
Flashing red lights reflected across the wet pavement.
Emma was being loaded into the ambulance when someone shouted her name.
“EMMA!”
Daniel.
She turned.
Two deputies were bringing him through another courthouse exit.
His wrists were still cuffed.
His expensive suit was wrinkled now.
His carefully controlled image had disappeared.
“Emma, listen to me!”
She stared at him.
“Stay away from my child.”
Daniel struggled against the deputies.
“You don’t understand!”
“I understand enough.”
“No, you don’t!”
The ambulance doors started closing.
Then Daniel screamed something that stopped Emma cold.
“THE COUPLE DOESN’T KNOW!”
Emma raised her hand.
“Wait.”
One paramedic paused.
Daniel shouted across the rain.
“They think everything is legal!”
Emma stared at him.
“What?”
“They don’t know what Rachel did!”
One deputy pulled Daniel toward the patrol car.
Daniel fought to turn back.
“They think you agreed to the adoption!”
The doors slammed shut.
The ambulance accelerated away.
Emma lay there listening to the siren.
Her mind raced.
If Daniel was telling the truth, perhaps the mysterious couple weren’t part of the plan.
Perhaps they were being deceived too.
But that left one terrifying question.
Who was waiting on the fourth floor?
Another contraction came.
Emma screamed.
The paramedic checked the monitor.
“They’re getting closer.”
“It’s too early.”
“Babies arrive when babies decide.”
“No.”
Emma shook her head.
“This wasn’t the baby deciding.”
The paramedic looked at her.
Emma told him about Rachel’s tea.
He immediately radioed the hospital.
“Possible ingestion of unknown substance approximately twenty-four hours ago.”
Emma closed her eyes.
Rachel had sat across from her smiling.
Drink it while it’s warm.
It’ll help you sleep.
Emma had trusted her.
Ten minutes later, the ambulance entered the emergency bay at Riverside.
A medical team was already waiting.
Emma was rushed directly upstairs.
Blood tests.
Fetal monitoring.
Questions.
Needles.
Consent forms.
Everything happened at once.
But Emma refused to sign anything until her attorney arrived.
“I need to know exactly what every page says.”
The nurse nodded.
“That’s completely fine.”
Emma almost laughed at how strange those words felt.
For months, Daniel had handed her documents and said the opposite.
Just sign.
I’ll explain later.
There would never be another “just sign.”
A doctor entered.
“I’m Dr. Patel.”
Emma immediately asked, “Is my baby okay?”
“The heartbeat is strong right now.”
Right now.
Emma noticed those words.
“But?”
“You are having genuine contractions.”
“Can you stop them?”
“Possibly. But first we need to understand why they started.”
Emma told him about the tea.
“We’re testing your blood and urine.”
“Could someone have caused this?”
“I don’t want to speculate before we have results.”
Emma nodded.
She appreciated that.
Another contraction came.
Dr. Patel watched the monitor.
“We also need to prepare for the possibility that your baby may be delivered tonight.”
Emma began crying.
“I’m not ready.”
“You don’t have to be ready emotionally. You only have to let us take care of you medically.”
Emma covered her face.
Then someone knocked.
Her attorney entered.
Behind him was the courthouse investigator.
Emma sat up.
“What happened?”
The investigator closed the door.
“A lot.”
“Lily?”
“Safe.”
Emma exhaled.
“She’s with her mother now.”
“And Daniel?”
“Still being questioned.”
“Rachel?”
“Also being questioned.”
Emma looked toward the investigator.
“And Vanessa?”
“Talking.”
That answer caught her attention.
“What is she saying?”
“Enough that we’re starting to understand the financial side.”
Emma’s attorney placed a folder on the table.
“Daniel was in serious trouble.”
“What kind?”
“His business was failing.”
Emma frowned.
Daniel had always claimed Caldwell Development was thriving.
New contracts.
New clients.
New investors.
“He told me they had their best year ever.”
“They didn’t.”
“How bad?”
Her attorney looked at her.
“Potentially millions.”
Emma stared at him.
“That’s impossible.”
“It appears Daniel borrowed heavily against company assets.”
The investigator continued.
“And possibly against assets connected to your marriage.”
Emma’s face hardened.
“The house?”
“Yes.”
“My savings?”
“We’re still checking.”
Emma looked away.
“So Vanessa was right. He needed money.”
“Yes.”
“But why my baby?”
Neither man answered immediately.
Emma looked between them.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
The investigator pulled up a chair.
“The private adoption agreement listed a substantial payment.”
Emma’s stomach twisted.
“How much?”
“Daniel appears to have described much of it as reimbursement for medical expenses and other costs.”
“How much?”
The investigator finally answered.
“Just over two hundred thousand dollars.”
Emma stared at him.
For a moment, she couldn’t speak.
“Two hundred thousand?”
“Approximately.”
Emma began shaking.
“He was selling our baby.”
Her attorney spoke carefully.
“We don’t yet know the full legal structure or what the prospective adoptive parents were told. They may have believed you had consented.”
Emma looked toward the window.
Rain ran down the glass.
“Daniel looked at our unborn child and saw a way out of debt.”
The investigator said nothing.
Emma suddenly remembered something.
“The fourth floor.”
The investigator’s expression changed.
“What did you find?”
He opened another folder.
“St. Catherine’s fourth floor contains several administrative offices, conference rooms, and a private recovery wing.”
“Recovery from what?”
“Various procedures.”
Emma swallowed.
“And room 417?”
The investigator stared at her.
“How do you know that number?”
“I don’t.”
She frowned.
Then she remembered.
Rachel.
Three weeks earlier.
Rachel had been in Emma’s nursery helping fold baby clothes when her phone rang.
She had stepped into the hallway.
Emma hadn’t meant to listen.
But she remembered one sentence.
Room 417 is private.
At the time, Emma assumed Rachel was discussing work.
“Rachel mentioned it.”
The investigator immediately wrote something down.
“What did she say?”
“Only that it was private.”
He stood.
“I need to make a call.”
Emma’s attorney watched him leave.
“What do you think it means?” Emma whispered.
“I don’t know.”
“But you have an idea.”
He hesitated.
“Whatever was supposed to happen there, I don’t think it was part of normal maternity care.”
Emma closed her eyes.
Twenty minutes passed.
Then thirty.
The contractions continued.
Dr. Patel returned.
“We received preliminary toxicology results.”
Emma opened her eyes.
“And?”
“There is evidence of a medication in your system.”
Her heart sank.
“What medication?”
He gave her the name.
Emma had never heard it.
“What does it do?”
“It can affect uterine activity.”
Emma stared at him.
“So somebody did this?”
“I can tell you the substance is present. I cannot tell you how it got there.”
Emma knew.
The tea.
Rachel.
Her friend.
Her trusted friend.
Someone knocked urgently.
The investigator returned.
His expression told Emma something had happened.
“We searched room 417.”
Emma’s pulse quickened.
“What was inside?”
“Documents.”
“What kind?”
“Consent forms.”
Emma’s attorney stood.
“For what?”
“Several things.”
The investigator looked at Emma.
“Some carried what appears to be Emma’s signature.”
Emma felt sick.
“What else?”
“A suitcase.”
Emma frowned.
“Whose?”
“Yours.”
Silence.
Emma stared at him.
“That’s impossible.”
“We found clothing inside that appears to belong to you.”
Emma suddenly remembered Daniel offering to clean their bedroom two days earlier.
He had insisted she rest.
She had thought it was sweet.
“What else was in it?”
“Your identification documents.”
Emma’s mouth fell open.
“Passport?”
“Yes.”
“Social Security card?”
“Yes.”
Her attorney cursed under his breath.
Emma whispered, “Why would they need those?”
The investigator sat down again.
“We also found an envelope containing cash and an airline itinerary.”
Emma stared at him.
“Airline itinerary?”
“One-way.”
“To where?”
“Toronto.”
Emma blinked.
“For me?”
“Your name is on it.”
Emma shook her head.
“I never booked a flight.”
“We know.”
“Then why would they make it look like I left?”
The answer came to Emma before anyone spoke.
She whispered it herself.
“Because after the baby was born, everyone would think I ran away.”
The room became silent.
Daniel hadn’t merely planned to take the baby.
He had planned to erase Emma from the story.
The cheating wife.
The unstable pregnant woman.
The woman who surrendered her child and disappeared to another country.
People might have believed it.
Especially after Daniel spent months telling friends that Emma was emotional.
Unstable.
Overwhelmed.
Emma remembered dinners where Daniel would casually say, “Pregnancy has been hard on Emma.”
She remembered him telling neighbors, “She hasn’t been herself lately.”
He had been writing the story before the ending happened.
Her attorney’s voice broke through her thoughts.
“There’s more, isn’t there?”
The investigator nodded.
“In room 417, we found a laptop.”
“Daniel’s?”
“No.”
“Rachel’s?”
“No.”
“Then whose?”
“We don’t know yet.”
The investigator opened his phone.
“But there was an email account logged in.”
Emma waited.
“The account contains messages between someone using the name ‘Coordinator M’ and Rachel.”
“Who is Coordinator M?”
“We’re working on that.”
“What do the messages say?”
The investigator scrolled.
“One says, ‘Mother arrives after labor begins.’”
Emma’s fingers tightened around the blanket.
“Another says, ‘Husband handles signatures.’”
Emma felt nauseated.
“Another says, ‘Nurse handles transfer.’”
Her attorney interrupted.
“Transfer of the newborn?”
The investigator shook his head.
“That’s what we assumed.”
Emma stared at him.
“Assumed?”
He looked directly at her.
“The next message says, ‘Do not move the infant until the mother is gone.’”
Nobody spoke.
Emma whispered, “Gone where?”
“We don’t know.”
Another contraction hit.
Harder than the others.
Emma cried out.
Dr. Patel rushed back into the room.
The monitor changed rhythm.
“Emma, I need you to focus on me.”
“What’s happening?”
“We need to examine you.”
Minutes later, the doctor returned with news she wasn’t prepared to hear.
“You’re progressing.”
“How fast?”
“Fast enough that I don’t think we’re stopping this.”
Emma started crying.
“My baby is coming tonight?”
“Yes.”
Fear swallowed her.
Daniel’s plan had failed.
Rachel had been arrested.
She was at another hospital.
She was surrounded by doctors.
She should have felt safe.
But then the investigator’s phone rang.
He answered.
Listened.
His expression changed.
“What?” Emma asked.
He didn’t answer.
“What happened?”
He ended the call.
“The prospective adoptive couple has been located.”
Emma swallowed.
“And?”
“They voluntarily came forward after hearing Daniel had been detained.”
“Did they know?”
The investigator shook his head.
“They say they believed you had chosen them.”
Emma closed her eyes.
“They have copies of consent documents bearing your signature.”
“Forged.”
“That appears increasingly likely.”
Emma opened her eyes.
“Then they’re victims too.”
“Potentially.”
“But they’re not Coordinator M?”
“No.”
Emma stared at him.
“So who is?”
“We’re still trying to determine that.”
A nurse entered.
“Emma, your contractions are two minutes apart.”
Dr. Patel appeared behind her.
“We’re moving you to labor and delivery.”
Emma’s attorney walked alongside the bed.
The investigator followed until they reached the secured maternity doors.
Then he stopped.
“I’ll remain outside.”
Emma grabbed his sleeve.
“Find out who Coordinator M is.”
“I will.”
“And nobody takes my baby.”
“They won’t.”
Emma was wheeled through the doors.
Hours seemed to collapse into minutes.
Pain.
Voices.
Monitors.
Breathing.
Pressure.
Emma kept asking the same question.
“Is my baby okay?”
And every time, someone answered.
“Yes.”
Then, shortly after midnight, Emma heard the sound she had been terrified she might never hear.
A cry.
Her baby.
Emma collapsed against the pillow, sobbing.
Dr. Patel smiled.
“You have a daughter.”
A nurse placed the tiny baby against Emma’s chest.
Emma looked down.
Ten fingers.
Tiny nose.
Dark hair.
Alive.
Safe.
“My baby.”
Emma kissed her forehead.
“Hi, Grace.”
She had chosen the name months earlier.
Grace Caldwell.
But looking at her daughter now, Emma knew one thing.
Daniel’s surname would not define this child’s future.
“You’re safe,” she whispered.
“No one is taking you anywhere.”
For the first time since entering the courtroom, Emma believed it.
Then the maternity doors opened.
The investigator stepped inside.
He looked exhausted.
But something in his expression frightened Emma.
“What happened?”
“We identified Coordinator M.”
Emma tightened her arms around Grace.
“Who?”
The investigator glanced toward the nurses.
“Can we speak privately?”
Emma’s heart began pounding again.
“Just tell me.”
He hesitated.
“Coordinator M is not an adoption employee.”
“Then who?”
“Someone connected to Daniel’s company.”
Emma frowned.
“Who?”
“His business partner.”
Emma froze.
Daniel had only one business partner.
A man she had known almost as long as Daniel.
“Michael Reeves?”
The investigator nodded.
Emma stared at him.
Michael had attended their wedding.
He had held a glass of champagne and toasted their future.
He had brought a giant stuffed bear to their baby shower.
He had hugged Emma and said, “That little girl is going to have the best father in Ohio.”
“What did Michael want?”
“We believe Daniel owed him a substantial amount of money.”
“How much?”
“Nearly nine hundred thousand dollars.”
Emma looked down at Grace.
“So this was about Daniel’s debt?”
“Partly.”
“Partly?”
The investigator hesitated.
“Michael was at St. Catherine’s tonight.”
Emma’s head snapped upward.
“What?”
“He entered the fourth floor approximately forty minutes before your original ambulance would have arrived.”
Emma’s blood went cold.
“What was he doing there?”
“We don’t know.”
“Where is he now?”
The investigator didn’t answer.
Emma understood.
“You lost him.”
“He left before officers arrived.”
Emma pulled Grace closer.
“Then lock the doors.”
“They’re already secured.”
“No visitors.”
“Understood.”
“No Daniel.”
“He’s in custody.”
“No Rachel.”
“Also in custody.”
Emma stared at the investigator.
“And Michael?”
“We’re looking for him.”
Suddenly, the lights flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Then darkness.
A nurse gasped.
Emergency lighting came on seconds later, bathing the hallway in dim light.
Emma sat upright.
“What happened?”
“Probably a power transfer,” the nurse said.
But the investigator was already reaching for his radio.
Static.
Then a voice.
“Security to maternity.”
The investigator answered.
“Go ahead.”
“We have an unauthorized access alert at the east entrance.”
Emma’s heart stopped.
“Lock this room.”
The nurse rushed toward the door.
The investigator drew the curtain around Emma’s bed.
“Stay here.”
He stepped into the hallway.
Emma clutched Grace against her chest.
The baby began crying.
“It’s okay.”
Emma kissed her forehead.
“Mommy’s here.”
Footsteps sounded outside.
Fast.
Then shouting.
“STOP!”
A crash.
Emma’s door handle moved.
She stared at it.
The nurse backed away.
The handle turned again.
Locked.
Someone struck the door.
Once.
Twice.
Then silence.
Emma stopped breathing.
The investigator shouted somewhere down the hallway.
More footsteps.
Then the door suddenly opened.
Emma screamed.
But it was the investigator.
“Emma, we need to move you.”
“Why?”
“Now.”
The nurse took Grace’s bassinet while another helped Emma into a wheelchair.
They rushed through a staff corridor.
“What happened?”
“Someone used an employee badge to enter the maternity wing.”
“Michael?”
“We don’t know.”
They reached another secured room.
The investigator locked the door behind them.
Then his radio crackled.
“Suspect located.”
Emma grabbed his arm.
“Who?”
The radio continued.
“Male, sixth floor stairwell.”
The investigator answered.
“Identity?”
Static.
Then:
“Michael Reeves.”
Emma closed her eyes.
They had him.
But the voice on the radio continued.
“Be advised, Reeves is carrying documents and a hospital access badge.”
The investigator frowned.
“What documents?”
“Looks like financial paperwork.”
Emma exhaled.
Then another officer spoke.
“There’s also a photograph.”
Emma opened her eyes.
“What photograph?”
The investigator repeated the question.
There was a pause.
Then the answer came.
“A photograph of Mrs. Caldwell.”
Emma’s stomach tightened.
“From when?”
The officer replied.
“Not recent.”
The investigator looked at Emma.
“How old?”
Another pause.
“Approximately seven years.”
Emma froze.
Seven years.
Her wedding.
The investigator asked, “What’s written on it?”
The radio crackled.
“Something on the back.”
“What?”
The officer read it aloud.
“Phase One.”
Emma stared at the investigator.
Her mouth went dry.
“Phase one?”
The investigator immediately asked officers to secure everything Michael carried.
Emma looked down at Grace.
“This didn’t start with the pregnancy.”
The investigator didn’t answer.
“It started when I married Daniel.”
His silence confirmed he was thinking the same thing.
Then his phone vibrated.
A photograph arrived.
Michael’s seized documents.
The investigator opened the image.
His face changed.
“What?”
He enlarged something.
“What is it?”
“Emma…”
“Show me.”
He turned the phone.
It was a scanned financial agreement.
At the bottom were three signatures.
Michael Reeves.
Daniel Caldwell.
And a third person.
Emma stared at the name.
Her entire body went cold.
“No.”
The investigator looked at her.
“You recognize it?”
Emma couldn’t breathe.
Because the third signature belonged to someone who had supposedly been dead for twelve years.
Her father.
Thomas Bennett.
Emma shook her head.
“That’s impossible.”
Then the investigator received another message.
He read it.
And slowly sat down.
“What now?”
He looked at Emma.
“When officers arrested Michael, he gave them a message for you.”
Emma held Grace tighter.
“What message?”
The investigator swallowed.
“He said, ‘Tell Emma her father kept his promise.’”
Emma stared at him.
“My father is dead.”
The investigator’s phone rang again.
He answered.
Listened.
Then looked through the small window in the door.
His expression changed completely.
“What?”
He lowered the phone.
“Security says someone is downstairs asking to see you.”
“Who?”
The investigator didn’t answer immediately.
Emma felt a terrible chill move through her.
“WHO?”
He looked directly at her.
“An older man.”
Emma’s heartbeat thundered.
“What’s his name?”
The investigator answered quietly.
“Thomas Bennett.”
Emma stopped breathing.
Downstairs, surrounded by hospital security, stood a gray-haired man carrying an old leather briefcase.
A man Emma had buried twelve years earlier.
And according to security, he had said only one thing since walking through the hospital doors:
“My daughter needs to know why Daniel married her.”
TO BE CONTINUED…
