Chapter 1 - The Woman by the Window“Wellness retreat?” Leah repeated.

Simone’s perfectly painted mouth tightened, as if Leah had stepped over an invisible line. For a moment, the only sound in the room was the soft pulse of the fetal monitor strapped around Leah’s stomach.

Then Simone looked toward the closed door and lowered her voice.

“My husband thinks I’m at Lakehaven Spa,” she said. “My mother thinks I’m staying with a friend. The clinic thinks I’m here under my real name because Doreen Carver told them to keep it quiet.”

Leah went still.

“You know Doreen?”

Simone gave a small laugh without humor. “Everyone in this wing knows Doreen. She doesn’t walk into places. She enters them like she’s collecting rent.”

Leah glanced at the door. “Why would she care where you are?”

Simone studied Leah more carefully now. Her flirtatious mask slipped, revealing something sharp and frightened underneath.

“Because Doreen arranges problems,” Simone said. “That’s what women like her do. They never get blood on their gloves. They just make a call, and suddenly a form is missing, a person is transferred, a truth becomes inconvenient.”

Leah’s hand moved protectively over her stomach.

Before she could ask what Simone meant, the door opened. Doreen Carver entered carrying a vase of white lilies.

She was sixty-two, elegant in a gray cashmere coat despite the warm hospital room, her silver hair pinned into a smooth twist. Doreen had the serene face of a woman who had never apologized in her life because she had never believed herself wrong.

“Leah, darling,” she said. “You look exhausted.”

“I was fine until everyone decided I needed to be watched.”

Doreen smiled as if Leah had made a charming joke. She set the lilies on the windowsill without asking whether Leah liked the smell.

“Precaution is love,” Doreen said. “One day you’ll understand that motherhood means making hard choices for a child’s safety.”

Simone turned her face toward the window.

Doreen noticed.

“Simone,” she said softly. “Still here?”

Simone did not answer.

The room chilled.

Leah looked between them. “You two know each other.”

Doreen adjusted one white lily stem. “Silver Birch refers many patients here. Donors know donors. That’s all.”

Simone’s laugh was almost silent.

Doreen’s eyes flicked toward her, then back to Leah. “Nathan is parking. He was delayed by work. Poor man is carrying so much stress.”

“I’m the one in the hospital.”

“Of course. But husbands suffer too.”

Leah looked down at her blanket. She had learned that arguing with Doreen was like throwing stones into a deep pond. Nothing splashed back, but somehow you felt foolish for trying.

Nathan arrived ten minutes later with Leah’s phone charger, a half-empty pack of gum, and none of the clothes she had asked for. He kissed her forehead with distracted affection.

“Mom says this is the best thing,” he said.

“Mom says a lot.”

Nathan’s smile faded. “Can we not?”

Doreen sat in the chair beside him as if they were two members of a board voting on Leah’s body.

Dr. Rusk came in near evening. She explained the observation plan, the possible need for early delivery, and the importance of keeping Leah calm. Her eyes slid toward Doreen every time she mentioned “maternal anxiety.”

Leah noticed.

After they left, Simone spoke into the dark.

“Don’t let them write that word about you.”

“What word?”

“Anxious.”

Leah turned her head.

Simone’s face was a pale oval above her silk robe.

“Once it goes into your chart, it grows teeth.”

Leah swallowed. “You’re scaring me.”

“You should be scared.” Simone’s voice was barely audible. “I came here because Doreen promised discretion. Three days later, she knew everything. Who I was carrying for. Who was paying. Who wanted the baby gone from the records.”

Leah’s heart began to pound.

“What baby?”

Simone closed her eyes.

Before she answered, a nurse entered to check Leah’s vitals. Not Mae. This nurse wore a badge that read Kendra Park. She smiled too widely and asked too many questions.

“Any troubling thoughts tonight, Leah?” she asked while wrapping the cuff around Leah’s arm.

“No.”

“Feelings of being unsafe?”

“No.”

“Fear that someone might harm your baby?”

Leah stared at her.

The nurse’s pen hovered.

Leah heard Simone’s warning.

“No,” Leah said carefully. “I feel fine.”

Kendra wrote something anyway.

After the nurse left, Leah whispered, “Why did she ask that?”

Simone turned from the window.

“Because somebody told her to start a record.”

That night Leah did not sleep.

At 2:17 a.m., she heard footsteps stop outside the room.

Doreen’s voice floated through the door, soft and clear.

“She’s fragile. Document everything.”

A man answered, “And after delivery?”

Doreen said, “After delivery, we move quickly.”

Leah’s son kicked hard beneath her palm.

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