Chapter 3 - The HospitalOlivia’s blood pressure was too high.
Not catastrophic.
Not yet.
But high enough that Dr. Patel admitted her overnight for monitoring.
Ethan sat beside the bed while a fetal monitor traced their baby’s heartbeat.
Steady.
Thank God.
Olivia stared at the blanket.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“This.”
He almost laughed.
“Liv, your mother threw away medication prescribed during your pregnancy.”
“She thought it was making me sick.”
“She is not your doctor.”
Olivia said nothing.
Ethan leaned closer.
“What else?”
Her eyes filled.
“They took my car.”
“What?”
“Vanessa needed it for work.”
“For how long?”
“Six weeks.”
Ethan stared.
He had been taking the train downtown because Olivia told him she liked having the SUV at home.
Apparently she had not had it.
“What else?”
“Courtney uses my card sometimes.”
“How sometimes?”
Olivia wiped her face.
“She said Mom told her it was okay.”
Ethan’s chest tightened.
“What card?”
“The household card.”
That card had a $20,000 limit.
Ethan opened the banking app.
Charges.
Designer clothes.
Food delivery.
Beauty appointments.
A weekend hotel in Austin.
Thousands.
Not groceries.
Not household expenses.
Olivia whispered:
“Please don’t get mad at me.”
He put the phone down.
“I’m not mad at you.”
But part of him was angry.
Not at her.
At himself.
He had built a house large enough to hide everything happening inside it.
He worked late.
Trusted everyone.
Asked too few questions.
Then a nurse entered with Olivia’s overnight bag.
“Your mother brought this from home.”
Olivia opened it.
Pajamas.
Toiletries.
A sweater.
No prenatal vitamins.
No blood pressure cuff.
No medication list.
Then Ethan noticed a folded piece of paper in the side pocket.
A handwritten schedule.
6:00 — breakfast.
7:00 — laundry.
9:00 — upstairs bathrooms.
11:00 — lunch prep.
1:00 — groceries.
3:00 — kitchen.
5:00 — dinner.
8:00 — dishes.
At the bottom:
NO NAPS. DOCTOR SAID SHE NEEDS TO STAY ACTIVE.
Ethan looked at Olivia.
“Who wrote this?”
She closed her eyes.
“Mom.”
Then Ethan saw something printed on the back.
A bank transfer confirmation.
Ten thousand dollars.
May you like
From Olivia’s personal savings.
To Diane Miller.
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