“I didn’t want the baby to see it if he woke up,” Ryan said, his voice rising in panic. “I didn’t know she was dying. I thought it was normal.”

“You saw your wife bleeding on the floor, searched the internet to see if it would ruin your wood floors, threw a towel over it, and left for a birthday trip?”

“She told me to go!” Ryan yelled, slamming his hand on the table. “She said she was fine!”

“She was in hypovolemic shock, Ryan,” Thomas said, his voice breaking the silence like a gunshot. “She didn’t know where she was.”

“That’s enough,” Henderson said, raising his hand. “We need a recess.”

“No,” Helen said, her voice cool and deadly. “We are finished.”

She gathered her papers and slid them back into her briefcase.

Ryan sat there, staring at the mahogany table, his face white.

I stood up, my knees shaking, but I kept my head high.

Thomas guided me out of the room.

As we stepped into the hallway, Margaret rushed toward us.

“Ryan?” Margaret called out. “What did they do?”

Ryan didn’t answer her.