My stomach churned, a deep, sickening wave of nausea hitting me.

I remembered the nights I had slept for fourteen hours, waking up with a heavy, leaden feeling in my limbs.

I remembered the metallic taste in the chamomile tea he insisted on brewing for me every night.

“He told me we would raise her together,” Sloane said, tears finally tracking through her makeup.

“He said you would be declared unfit,” she said.

“He said I would be the mother this baby actually deserved,” Sloane said.

“And you believed him?” Margaret asked, her voice dripping with contempt.

“You believed a man who was actively poisoning his pregnant wife?” Margaret asked.

“He loved me!” Sloane cried out, her voice cracking.

“He told me he hated her,” Sloane said, pointing a shaking finger at me.

“He said she was cold, just like her father,” she said.

The wind rattled the glass windows of the penthouse, a low, ominous sound.

“You are an accomplice to attempted child endangerment and grand larceny, Miss Vale,” Margaret said.

Margaret took her phone out of her pocket.

“I am calling the police now,” Margaret said.