Chapter 2 - I WALKED INTO THE DELIVERY ROOM KNOWING MY HUSBAND WANTED ME DEAD
At 5:43 the next morning, Flynn brought me breakfast.
He entered my hospital room carrying a paper cup of decaf coffee and wearing the concerned expression of a devoted husband.
If I had not heard him twelve hours earlier, I might have believed it.
“How did you sleep?”
His hand settled gently on my shoulder.
I fought the urge to recoil.
“Fine.”
“You look tired.”
“I’m thirty-five weeks pregnant and scheduled for an emergency C-section. I’m allowed to look tired.”
He smiled.
“That’s my girl.”
My girl.
The words nearly made me sick.
I looked toward the window.
Phoenix was just beginning to brighten.
Six o’clock.
Arthur should already have been somewhere inside the hospital.
I had received only one message from him since dawn.
I’m here. You are not alone. Do exactly what we discussed.
That was all.
No details.
Good.
If Flynn checked my phone, there would be almost nothing to find.
He kissed my temple.
“Dr. Vance said they might move the procedure earlier.”
My heart kicked.
“How much earlier?”
“Maybe seven-thirty.”
I forced a nervous smile.
“I thought eight.”
“Hospital schedules change.”
He studied me.
Too closely.
“You’re not scared, are you?”
Terrified.
But not of childbirth.
“No.”
“Good.”
His thumb brushed my cheek.
“Everything will be over soon.”
He meant me.
I knew it.
My daughter moved beneath my ribs.
I placed both hands over my stomach.
She had no idea that her father had spent the previous evening negotiating the price of her mother’s death.
Something inside me hardened.
I would survive.
She would survive.
And Flynn would not decide either outcome.
At 6:08, a nurse entered.
Not the same nurse from the night before.
Her badge read MELISSA GRANT, RN.
She checked my chart.
Then looked directly into my eyes.
“Mrs. Mercer, I need to take you for preoperative monitoring.”
Flynn frowned.
“Already?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll come.”
Melissa smiled professionally.
“We need her alone for a few minutes.”
“I’m her husband.”
“And she is our patient.”
Something about the way she said it told me she knew.
Flynn clearly didn’t notice.
“I’ll be outside.”
Melissa wheeled me down the hallway.
We turned one corner.
Then another.
Then entered a small consultation room.
Arthur was inside.
So was Rachel Dawson, my corporate attorney.
And two people I had never met.
One was a detective.
The other introduced herself as Deputy District Attorney Helen Cho.
The moment the door closed, Arthur crossed the room and hugged me.
I broke.
Not loudly.
I had held everything inside for eight hours.
The terror.
The betrayal.
The image of Flynn leaning over me and kissing my forehead after planning my death.
I buried my face against my brother’s shoulder.
“He really said it, Arthur.”
“I heard the recording.”
“He wants me dead.”
“I know.”
“And the baby—”
“You’re both getting out of this.”
Helen waited until I could breathe again.
“Mabel, I need to confirm something before we proceed. Are you willing to cooperate with an investigation into your husband and Dr. Vance?”
“Yes.”
“Do you believe Flynn knows you recorded the conversation?”
“No.”
“Good.”
I wiped my face.
“What happens now?”
“We already contacted hospital administration.”
“And Dr. Vance?”
Helen’s expression gave away nothing.
“He has been removed from your treatment team.”
My shoulders dropped with relief.
“Does Flynn know?”
“No.”
That surprised me.
“How?”
The hospital had created a cover story.
Dr. Vance had supposedly been called into an emergency case elsewhere in the building.
My surgery had been transferred to another obstetric surgeon, Dr. Mara Patel, under the explanation that scheduling required it.
Flynn would be told only when necessary.
“Why not arrest them now?”
Helen folded her hands.
“We could move against Flynn based on the recording, but the cleaner case involves confirming intent, payment arrangements, and whether anyone else is involved.”
Arthur immediately said, “My sister is not bait.”
“I agree.”
Helen looked at him.
“We are not putting her in danger.”
Then she turned to me.
“We already have enough to make sure Dr. Vance cannot touch you.”
“Then what do you need from me?”
“Almost nothing.”
That word frightened me.
“Almost?”
“We want Flynn to believe the schedule is proceeding normally.”
My stomach tightened.
“He’s expecting to pay Vance this morning.”
“Yes.”
“Are you going to let him?”
Helen didn’t answer directly.
“We have investigators monitoring the meeting.”
I looked at Arthur.
He clearly hated all of this.
“So I walk into surgery while Flynn thinks he’s paid a doctor to kill me.”
“You walk into surgery with an entirely different medical team, a security officer outside the operating area, and law enforcement already inside the hospital.”
I thought about my daughter.
Then I nodded.
“Fine.”
Rachel stepped closer.
“There’s another issue.”
“What?”
“Your estate plan.”
Flynn had said everything would transfer to him.
Rachel had reviewed my grandfather’s trust overnight.
Apparently Flynn did not understand it nearly as well as he thought.
“Mabel, your grandfather’s property company is not held as a simple marital asset.”
“I know.”
“But Flynn may not.”
The Mercer Commercial Trust contained a survivorship structure.
If I died while leaving a biological child, the controlling interest would move into a protected trust for that child.
My spouse would receive a limited income allowance only if my death resulted from natural causes and he remained an approved guardian.
If the spouse was under investigation for causing or contributing to my death?
He received nothing.
Control moved temporarily to Arthur and an independent corporate trustee.
I stared at Rachel.
“So even if he had succeeded…”
“He would not inherit the company.”
“What about the house?”
“Separate inheritance from your grandfather.”
“The investments?”
“Mostly premarital trust assets.”
“What would Flynn actually get?”
Rachel looked almost apologetic.
“Depending on the circumstances, probably less than four percent of what he thinks.”
Arthur gave a grim laugh.
“He offered half a million dollars to kill his wife for money he wasn’t even getting.”
I felt cold.
Not satisfied.
Cold.
Because money had never truly been the point.
Entitlement was.
Flynn believed marrying me meant eventually owning what belonged to me.
And apparently he had decided death was simply a faster transfer mechanism.
At 6:49, Detective Ruiz’s phone buzzed.
He read the message.
Then looked at Helen.
“What?” I asked.
Neither answered immediately.
Arthur stood.
“What happened?”
Detective Ruiz finally said, “Your husband just left the maternity floor.”
“Where is he going?”
“To meet Dr. Vance.”
Every muscle in my body tightened.
“Where?”
“Hospital parking structure.”
Helen raised a hand.
“Investigators are already there.”
I looked at the clock.
6:50.
Flynn had once taken three days to choose my engagement ring because he wanted “the perfect symbol of forever.”
Now he was about to make a down payment on my funeral.
Fifteen minutes later, Melissa wheeled me toward the operating suite.
Flynn reappeared as though nothing had happened.
He had no idea two detectives had watched him return from the parking garage.
He took my hand.
Cold fingers around mine.
“Everything okay?”
“Yes.”
“You sure?”
I smiled.
“I’m sure.”
He kissed my hand.
“I love you.”
That almost broke my performance.
Instead, I squeezed his fingers.
“I know.”
The doors to the surgical area opened.
A nurse stopped Flynn.
“You’ll wait here while we prepare her.”
He leaned toward me.
“I’ll see you soon.”
I looked into the eyes of the man who believed those would be the last words I ever heard from him.
“Yes,” I whispered.
“You will.”
The doors closed.
Dr. Mara Patel stood waiting in surgical scrubs.
“Mabel?”
“Yes.”
“I’m Dr. Patel. I’ve reviewed your case personally.”
My voice shook.
“Do you know why Vance was removed?”
“Yes.”
“Are you going to protect my daughter?”
Her gaze never wavered.
“You are both my patients. That is exactly what I am going to do.”
For the first time since the night before, I let myself believe I might survive.
Then something happened outside the operating room.
Raised voices.
A man shouting.
Flynn.
“You changed doctors?”
A nurse answered.
“Sir, please lower your voice.”
“Where is Vance?”
I looked at Dr. Patel.
Flynn had noticed.
Then the operating-room door rattled.
“Mabel!”
He knew something was wrong.
“Mabel!”
Security moved in.
I heard another voice.
Arthur.
“Get away from that door.”
Then Flynn shouted the sentence that destroyed whatever chance he had of pretending innocence.
“Where the hell is Vance? I already paid him!”
The hallway went silent.
So did I.
Dr. Patel looked toward the door.
Then back at me.
“That,” she said quietly, “was not smart.”
No.
It wasn’t.
But Flynn’s worst mistake was still coming.
Because Dr. Julian Vance had never reached the parking lot with his first $250,000.
He had reached it wearing a wire.
May you like
And the entire payment conversation had just been recorded.
---
Related Stories
