Chapter 2 - Awakening in the White RoomWhen I opened my eyes, blinding white hospital light filled my vision.
The rhythmic, electronic beep of a heart monitor pulsed steadily beside my bed. My mouth was so dry it felt coated in dust, and when I tried to turn my head, a sharp wave of dizziness made the ceiling spin.
My stomach was bound in heavy, cold medical bandages. My arms felt impossibly heavy, bruised with IV lines. At the foot of the bed stood a senior doctor wearing a white lab coat, holding a medical chart with a grave, cautious expression—the look people give when the news is balance between life and death.
“Mrs. Vance?” Dr. Sarah Lawson said softly, stepping closer to check my vitals. “Can you hear me?”
“My... my baby...” I choked out, my voice barely a raspy whisper.
Dr. Lawson took my hand gently. “The burns are severe, third-degree across your abdomen. You slipped into a deep traumatic coma for forty-eight hours. The baby’s heartbeat dropped dangerously low, but... your child is still alive, Hannah. The pregnancy is in critical condition, but you are both fighting.”
Tears welled in my eyes and spilled onto the white pillow. I cried without making a sound—a silent, overwhelming release of grief and relief. I had survived the night, but we were far from safe.
“Where... where is Derek?” I stammered, terror instantly tightening my chest as I looked toward the hospital room door.
“Derek Vance cannot hurt you anymore,” a deep, authoritative voice spoke from the corner of the room.
A man in a sharp grey suit stood up from a vinyl armchair. He had commanding posture, dark eyes, and a badge clipped to his belt.
“I’m Detective Marcus Sterling, Major Crimes Division,” he introduced himself, walking over to my bed. “You are under full police protection, Hannah. Your husband and his mother were arrested at the scene two nights ago.”
I blinked through my tears. “How? They locked the gates... they took my phone...”
Detective Sterling pulled a heavy tablet from his leather briefcase and turned the screen toward me.
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“You have a neighbor, Mrs. Gable,” Sterling explained softly. “She lives directly across the alleyway. For three weeks, she noticed the pattern—the garage door shutting at midnight, raised arguments, smoke, and a smell that made no sense for yard work.”
Sterling tapped the screen. A high-definition video began to play.
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