“Let’s see how well you lie after this,” she hissed.
One vicious shove.
My heel slipped. The world flipped. Wind roared past me as the terrace vanished above.
I don’t remember the impact—only the darkness that swallowed everything.
I woke to the sting of hospital lights and the relentless beeping of machines. Every breath felt like knives in my ribs. Nathan sat beside me, unshaven, eyes bloodshot, gripping my hand as though it were the only thing anchoring him to earth.
“Sophie… I’m so sorry,” he whispered over and over, voice raw.
The door opened. Dr. Patel entered, face somber, chart in hand. He looked from Nathan to me and drew a slow breath.
“There are things you both need to hear.”
He began with the injuries: multiple fractures, internal bruising—consistent with a four-story fall onto the hotel’s lower canopy. Then he paused.
“Your admission bloodwork showed elevated hCG levels—early pregnancy, roughly two weeks along.” His voice dropped. “Those levels have since plummeted. We also detected traces of a misoprostol derivative. Someone deliberately induced a miscarriage.”
The room spun. Nathan shot to his feet, chair crashing backward. “What are you saying?”