Then my phone vibrated.
A new message.
One image.
My front door.
Wide open.
Part 4 — The House Was Only the Beginning
The sight made my stomach drop so sharply I felt it in my stitches.
Margaret gently took the phone, studied the image, and her expression hardened. “Did you grant anyone access to your home?”
“No.”
Madeline leaned closer. “That’s unlawful entry.”
Margaret handed the phone back with care. “Hospital security will contact local authorities. We’ll expedite the protective and occupancy orders.”
Her tone was measured. The impact was not.
Jason hadn’t simply expelled me. He had attempted to erase me—at the precise moment I was physically weakest.
That wasn’t stress.
That was calculation.
Margaret stepped into the corner of the room and began making calls. A nurse adjusted my baby’s blanket. I focused on the gentle rhythm of my child’s breathing, matching it with my own.
Outside, I heard security radio chatter.
Madeline stood by the window, arms folded, staring at the concrete lot below as if she could see Jason through it.
“I didn’t know he could do that,” she said quietly.
I didn’t answer. There was no space left for resentment. Only steadiness.
Two hours later, Margaret returned. “Police are on-site. I’ve engaged a private security firm to meet them and secure the property once it’s cleared.”
Madeline looked at her. “Your firm uses Blackridge, correct?”
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