The Poisoned Cradle and the Mother Who Tried to Steal Our Child
“She knows which hospital you’re at, Jake,” Marcus said.
My heart stopped.
“How?” I whispered.
“She’s been tracking Megan’s phone,” he said. “She has a contact in the admissions office. She’s already on her way.”
“She has a restraining order,” I said, my voice rising. “The police will arrest her.”
“She doesn’t care about the police anymore, Jake,” Marcus said.
A heavy silence hung on the line.
“She thinks that baby belongs to her,” he said.
I heard a click, and the line went dead.
I stared at the screen as it went black.
Just then, the door to the changing room creaked open.
I shoved the phone deep into my pocket and turned around, my heart hammering against my ribs.
It wasn’t my mother.
A young nurse in blue scrubs stood in the doorway, holding a stack of clean towels.
She startled when she saw me, her eyes widening.
“Oh, sorry,” she said, her voice soft. “I didn’t know anyone was in here.”
“It’s fine,” I muttered, my hands shaking as I brushed past her.
I hurried back down the hallway, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead.