When my pregnant daughter's blouse slipped, boot-shaped bruises covered her back—and her terrifying confession sent a chill down my spine.

The room descended into utter chaos.

"Call the police!" Chairman Harrison shouted, pushing his chair back in disgust. "Get this monster away from us!"

Julian looked around the room. The board members, men and women who had worshipped him an hour ago, now looked at him like he was a diseased rat. His empire had crumbled in a span of five minutes.

Suddenly, a security guard burst through the boardroom doors, panting heavily. "Dr. Thorne! We have an emergency on the fourth floor! Mrs. Thorne has been admitted!"

I froze. "What?"

"She collapsed at the safehouse," the guard said, unaware of the tension in the room. "The ambulance brought her here—her water broke. She’s in active labor!"

Julian’s shock instantly transformed into a manic, triumphant grin.

He lunged toward the side exit before Marcus’s team could react. He had access codes to the hospital’s private elevators that bypassed standard security locks.

"Julian, stop!" I screamed, bolting after him.

"You can't touch me in my own operating theater, Eleanor!" Julian sneered as the private elevator doors began to slide shut. "She’s my patient. My wife. And that child is mine!"

The doors closed, sealing him inside.

"Marcus!" I yelled, spinning around. "He's going to the maternity ward! He's going to use the chaos of delivery to finish what he started!"

"All elevator banks are overridden!" Marcus yelled into his radio. "Code Black on the fourth floor! Lock down the surgical suites! Do not let Dr. Thorne near patient Chloe Vance!"

I didn't wait for Marcus. I kicked off my heels, grabbed the emergency stairwell door, and ran up four flights of concrete stairs, my heart screaming in my chest.