Chapter 2

Hannah's POV

I pushed open the door to VIP Suite 3 and locked it behind me.

The room smelled of expensive rose aromatherapy. The woman resting against the silk pillows turned her head, her signature dark red hair cascading over her shoulders. When she saw my face, the baby catalog in her hands dropped to the floor.

"Jesus, Hannah?" Eleanor’s eyes went wide. "Why are you wearing a nurse's uniform?"

"Shh, keep it down." I hurried to the bedside and grabbed her outstretched hand. "I'm your exclusive nurse for tomorrow's delivery."

"Oh my God." Eleanor gripped my hand tight, her eyes instantly welling with tears. "If my snobby mother-in-law finds out a Cole family bastard slipped into my medical team, she'll buy this entire hospital just to fire you."

I offered a bitter smile.

In this old-money circle, suffocating with vanity and prejudice, I was an unacknowledged stain. To ensure Eleanor, with her pure Ashford bloodline, could flawlessly marry into the obsessively aristocratic Whitlock family, my mother made a cruel decision on her deathbed—she forced me to turn completely invisible in their social circles.

"For your sister to secure her place in the Whitlock family, you must never reveal you are her half-sister. That unrecognized second marriage would make the Ashfords a laughingstock."

My mother’s words still echoed in my ears. But in my past life, this forced alienation became the perfect cover for my sister’s murder.

"Screw their outdated family rules," I said, my eyes red as I stared at her heavily pregnant belly, my fingers trembling. "No matter what, you and the baby make it through tomorrow safely."

"You're too stressed, honey." Eleanor gently stroked my cheek, her smile completely unguarded. "Marcus got me the best medical team money can buy. Plus, I have you. I'll be fine."

I clenched my jaw, forcefully blinking back my tears.

Stepping out of the suite, I leaned back against the freezing wall of the corridor.

In my past life, after I was sent to prison, the only person who visited me was Linda, a bespectacled nurse from Internal Medicine. Through the bulletproof glass, she lowered her voice and delivered the final blow:

"You know what's crazy, Hannah? That two-faced bitch Vanessa crawled right into the billionaire's bed a month after his wife bled to death. Today, she just proudly announced her pregnancy at the hospital—the sole heir to that top-tier family is in her belly now."

"And Ethan?" I had asked, gripping the phone receiver until my knuckles turned white.

"Ethan? That idiot has been sleeping with Vanessa for a year. He thought they were in it together, but the second Vanessa secured her spot as the mistress, she tossed him aside like a used condom."

All the puzzle pieces snapped together.

This sick couple, with all their private time in the maternity ward, engineered a flawless conspiracy. Vanessa wanted my sister and nephew dead to clear the throne for the shiny new "heir" in her own womb. And I was designed to be their perfect sacrificial lamb.

I took a deep breath, dragging myself out of the chilling memories.

One mystery remained.

In my last life, everyone swore I was in the OR. The security footage played in court clearly showed a woman with my face pushing the medication cart.

How did they pull that off? How did Vanessa create forged footage so perfect even I couldn't argue against it?

I walked quickly toward the breakroom. As I turned a corner, I bumped into a medical waste cart hidden in the shadows. A few empty boxes clattered to the floor.

I crouched down to pick them up, but my eyes locked onto something through the crack of the partially open fire door.

In the stairwell, half a flight down, stood a familiar figure.

It was Vanessa.

She had taken off her scrubs, wearing only a tight base layer. Moving with desperate stealth, she slipped an unlabeled brown glass vial right into the sterile surgical kit prepared for tomorrow’s delivery.