Chapter 2

Dr. Vance's private clinic was located on Manhattan's Upper East Side, decorated to look like an upscale art gallery.

"Maeve, you're looking a little pale," Dr. Vance said, pushing up his gold-rimmed glasses as he looked at the ultrasound image on the monitor.

I lay on the examination table. The cold ultrasound gel spread across my belly made me shiver involuntarily.

"Vance, she's been sleeping poorly lately. She keeps having nightmares and sudden emotional outbursts." Silas stood beside me, gripping my hand tightly. "Was the dose of the vitamins you prescribed last time not high enough?"

"Third-trimester anxiety is very common, Silas," Dr. Vance said, turning his head. The two men exchanged a fleeting glance.

If I hadn't already died once, I never would have caught that detail.

"The fetus is developing perfectly," Dr. Vance said, handing me a printed ultrasound scan. "However, Maeve, for your and the baby's safety, I recommend you come check into our hospital's VIP ward next week for round-the-clock prenatal observation. The facilities there are much better equipped, and you'll be able to get better rest."

Next week.

My stomach dropped. In my previous life, that was the exact day I blacked out.

"Alright," I said, putting on a grateful smile. "With you taking care of me, Dr. Vance, I feel much relieved."

After leaving the clinic, Silas said he had an urgent video conference for work and asked the driver to take me home first.

This was exactly what I wanted.

Once home, I didn't go to take my usual afternoon nap.

I avoided the living room and hallways, slipping into a windowless storage room.

From my coat pocket, I pulled out a small black plastic bag.

Inside was an unregistered burner SIM card and the cheapest prepaid phone I could find, which I had just bought with cash at the convenience store downstairs from the clinic.

I powered on the phone and registered a brand new encrypted email account.

Then, I started searching online for a private investigator.

Eventually, I zeroed in on a former detective named Reno. He specialized in high-society infidelity and asset-hiding cases, had a stellar reputation, and only worked for the money.

Using the new email, I sent him a message and paid the retainer upfront. I instructed him to tail Silas's private itinerary 24/7 starting today, paying close attention to any secret medical facilities he visited and anyone he met.

Once that was done, I turned off the burner phone, sealed it in a waterproof bag, and hid it under the float ball inside the master bathroom's toilet tank.

But that wasn't enough.

I needed to know exactly what had happened in this house while I was unconscious in my past life.

That afternoon, using the excuse that I wanted to take a walk, I headed to an electronics store a few blocks away.

I bought a micro pinhole camera disguised as a teddy bear's button eye.

Back in the nursery, I placed the teddy bear on a shelf directly facing the crib and the door. The camera was linked to my secret cloud drive. As long as there was a Wi-Fi connection, it would continuously upload the footage to the cloud 24/7.

Looking at the nursery, packed full of tiny clothes and little shoes, I felt as though a giant hand was relentlessly squeezing my heart.

Silas, you better pray you didn't hurt my baby.

Silas came home that evening. He brought a mousse cake from my favorite French restaurant.

"How are you feeling now, sweetheart?" he asked, wrapping his arms around me from behind.

"Much better." I turned around and naturally leaned into his embrace.

"That's good. When you go stay at Vance's next week for a few days, I'll clear my schedule and stay by your side the whole time." He kissed my hair.

"Silas," I said, tilting my head up to look into his eyes. "Are you really looking forward to this baby?"

He paused for a split second, then smiled with infinite tenderness.

"Of course I am. This is our child, the continuation of my life. I'm going to give her the best of everything in the world."

He didn't even blink when he lied.

"Here, drink some warm milk and get to bed early," he said, picking up the glass from the table and handing it to me.

I stared at the steaming milk, guessing he must have slipped something into it.

Or maybe he hadn't, but for the sake of my child, I couldn't let my guard down.

"Okay." I took the glass. The moment he turned around to grab a tissue, I dumped most of the milk into the potted plant next to me. Then, pretending to have finished it, I handed him the empty glass.

That night, I lay in bed with my eyes closed, listening to Silas's steady breathing as I stayed awake until dawn.

Three days remained until that "missing day."