“Tell security to lock down the garage gates immediately,” he said.

“Tell them to hold his vehicle,” Mr. Vance added.

Mrs. Gable nodded quickly and pulled out her phone, stepping back into the foyer.

“He won’t let them stop him,” Sloane said, a strange, hollow laugh escaping her lips.

“He has the passport,” Sloane said.

“Whose passport?” Margaret asked.

“Mine,” Sloane said.

“And the baby’s birth certificate form he took from your desk,” she said.

“He has everything in the trunk of the Mercedes,” Sloane said.

I looked down at my hands.

They were shaking.

A sudden, warm dampness began to spread through the fabric of my trousers.

My breath caught in my throat.

The pressure in my lower pelvis shifted, a heavy, downward pull that I recognized instantly.

“Margaret,” I said, my voice tight.

Margaret stopped looking at her phone and looked at me.

Her eyes widened as she saw my face.

“Elizabeth?” Margaret asked, stepping toward me.

“What is it?” Margaret asked.

“My water just broke,” I said.

The room seemed to freeze.

Sloane’s phone suddenly began to buzz on the quartz countertop.