Part 2: My husband bound me with rope while I was in active labor to force me into signing divorce papers, completely unaware that his stolen phone was auto-dialing emergency services inside the wall.

The postpartum room on the fourth floor of Saint Jude’s Hospital felt like a fortress.

Outside my door, an armed county deputy sat in a metal chair, checking the identification of every nurse, doctor, and technician who entered. My left ankle was immobilized in a thick fiberglass cast, elevated on three pillows, and my wrists were slathered in burn ointment and wrapped in soft white gauze.

Maya lay sleeping in the clear plastic bassinet beside my bed, swaddled tightly in hospital blankets, completely oblivious to the nightmare she had arrived in.

A knock sounded, and Detective Vance walked in. She was a tall woman in her late forties, wearing a tailored navy blazer and carrying a thick legal pad. Her expression was solemn but warm.

“Mrs. Bennett—or do you prefer Emily?” she asked gently, taking the visitor’s chair.

“Emily. Definitely Emily.”

“Good. Emily, Daniel and Patricia were arraigned two hours ago in front of Judge Callahan,” Vance said, opening her folder. “Daniel is facing kidnapping, felony assault on a pregnant person, and attempted witness tampering. His bail was set at five hundred thousand dollars. Patricia is facing conspiracy to commit kidnapping, fraud, and forgery. Her bail is two hundred and fifty thousand.”

A heavy weight lifted from my lungs, allowing me to take the first full, painless breath in months. “They can’t pay that. Daniel spent all our liquid savings trying to cover up his embezzlement at the city office.”