“The police are searching the area near the river,” Margaret said, her voice low. “He abandoned his car near the bridge toll.”

“Did he get away?” I asked.

“Not for long,” Margaret said, her grip tightening reassuringly. “The police have officers stationed at the hospital entrance and right outside this ward.”

She set her briefcase on the bedside table and clicked the latches open.

“I have already drafted the emergency restraining orders,” she said, pulling out a stack of documents. “The judge signed them twenty minutes ago.”

“What about Sloane?” I asked, my chest tightening.

“She is currently being questioned at the precinct,” Margaret replied. “Her little design empire is about to face a very public reckoning.”

A doctor in green scrubs entered the room, snapping on a pair of latex gloves. “Let’s see how far along we are.”

Margaret nodded to me, stepping back toward the corner of the room near the window.

“I will be right outside,” Margaret said. “Focus on your daughter.”

The next few hours lost all shape and time, dissolving into a cycle of pain and exhaustion.