Chapter 1 - The Drawer of Horrors
There were no prenatal vitamins in the heavy mahogany drawer. There were no iron supplements, no blood pressure cuffs, and no emergency contacts.
Instead, tucked beneath a false velvet bottom, I found dozens of small, unmarked amber vials filled with a murky, viscous liquid. Beside them sat a meticulous, handwritten ledger. The handwriting belonged to Victoria. My eyes scanned the terrifyingly clinical entries:
Week 24: Subject resistant. Dosage increased.
Week 26: Lethargy achieved. Contractions suppressed.
Week 28: Willpower breaking. The heir’s heart rate optimal. Maternal sacrifice imminent.
Maternal sacrifice.
A wave of absolute, blinding fury crashed over me. I grabbed the ledger and the vials, shoving them deep into my bag alongside the sealed mason jar of the rancid broth. Victoria wasn't just starving my sister; she was systematically poisoning her to serve as a human incubator, treating her life as entirely expendable.
"Claire?" Olivia whimpered from the bed, her breathing shallow and ragged. "My chest... it hurts so much."
Before I could comfort her, the heavy oak doors banged open. Two massive private security guards stepped into the room, flanked by Victoria. Her icy aristocratic composure was gone, replaced by the frantic, venomous glare of a cornered predator.
"Restrain her," Victoria barked at the guards, pointing a manicured finger at me. "She is trespassing and attempting to kidnap my grandson."
"Don't you dare touch me!" I screamed, backing toward the bed and brandishing a heavy brass table lamp. "I’m live on the phone with 911! The police are already in the elevator!"
As if on cue, the muffled ding of the private penthouse elevator echoed down the marble hallway, followed immediately by the chaotic, heavy footsteps of NYPD officers and EMTs. Victoria’s face drained of color. I threw the lamp aside and flagged the paramedics into the room. They took one look at Olivia’s gray skin and sunken eyes and immediately called for an emergency stretcher.
Victoria tried to block the door, her voice shrill. "You cannot take her! I am her medical proxy! My son is Preston Sterling—"
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An officer gently but firmly shoved Victoria aside. "Ma'am, step back or you'll be arrested for obstructing emergency medical personnel."
As they rolled Olivia out, she gripped my hand with a terrifyingly weak grip. We were out of the penthouse, but as the elevator doors closed, I saw Victoria pull out her phone, a deadly calm returning to her eyes. She was calling Preston. And I knew his billions would try to finish what she had started.
