Chapter 3 - The Hospital Bed and the Interrogation
The emergency room at Ohio State University Wexner Medical Center was a blur of fluorescent lights, shouting medical staff, and the rhythmic beep of heart monitors.
They rushed Ellie into a high-risk maternity trauma bay. I was forced to wait in the hallway, pacing back and forth on the linoleum floor, my hands stained with dirt and dry rain. Every minute felt like a blade twisting in my gut. My mind raced wildly—how could my mother do this? How deep did this madness go? What had Brandon known?
After two agonizing hours, an obstetric specialist, Dr. Sarah Lin, stepped out of the room, pulling off her surgical mask.
"Mr. Salazar?"
I rushed to her. "How is she? How's the baby?"
Dr. Lin gave me a gentle, reassuring smile, though her eyes remained grave. "Ellie is severely dehydrated, suffering from mild hypothermia, and has several deep contusions on her wrists and ankles. But she is conscious. And most importantly... we detected a strong fetal heartbeat."
I collapsed against the wall, burying my face in my hands, sobbing tears of overwhelming relief. "The baby is okay?"
"Your baby is a fighter," Dr. Lin said softly. "However, Ellie’s pregnancy remains extremely high-risk. The physical strain and severe psychological trauma she suffered could trigger premature labor if she isn't kept under strict rest and monitoring. She will need to stay in the hospital for the foreseeable future."
"Can I see her?"
"Briefly. She needs sleep."
Inside the room, Ellie looked tiny in the hospital bed, IV lines running into her arms, a monitor strapped around her swollen belly. When she saw me, her lip quivered.
"Adrian..."
I knelt beside her bed, taking her hands and kissing them over and over. "I'm here, Ellie. You're safe. Our baby is safe."
"She kept saying... she kept saying you were never coming back," Ellie whispered, tears spilling down her pale cheeks. "She said you agreed to leave me. She brought me water once a day, Adrian... and she told me if I signed a paper giving her power of attorney over the house and your bank accounts, she’d let me out..."
Anger, scalding and pure, surged through my veins. "She lied to you. I love you more than life itself, Ellie. I will never let anyone hurt you again."
While Ellie finally drifted into a medically induced sleep, Detective Miller was sitting in an interrogation room across town at the Franklin County Sheriff's Office, facing my younger brother, Brandon.
Brandon was broken. Without his mother in the room to command him, the swagger he usually wore collapsed into blubbering cowardice.
"I didn't want to do it, man!" Brandon sobbed into the metal table, his hands shaking in handcuffs. "Mom forced me! She said if I didn't help her, she'd turn me over to the loan sharks!"
"Start from the beginning, Brandon," Miller said, slamming a thick case file onto the table. "How long has Maya Vance been in that hole?"
"Fourteen months," Brandon confessed, wiping his nose with his sleeve. "Mom... Mom had gambling debts. Huge ones from casinos in Indiana. She met Maya through a real estate firm where Mom worked briefly as a bookkeeper. She found out Maya had a private trust fund."
Miller leaned forward. "So she kidnapped her."
"She lured Maya to the house under the pretense of looking at antique furniture," Brandon stammered. "Drugged her tea. Locked her downstairs. Mom used Maya's stolen cards and forged signature to siphon off small amounts of money every month—just enough to pay off her debts without alerting the bank security algorithms."
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"And Ellie?" Miller asked coldly. "Why put your brother's pregnant wife in the shed?"
Brandon swallowed hard, his eyes darting around nervously. "Because... because Ellie found the ledger."
