Chapter 4

"Jane Miller? This is Harold from Human Resources at corporate."

The call came the next morning at 10:00 AM from a corporate landline.

I instinctively looked toward Ethan's side of the bed. He had gone out to grab breakfast, leaving only a half-empty glass of cold water on the nightstand.

"Yes, Harold. What is this about?"

"Well," Harold’s tone was strictly bureaucratic, like he was reading a pre-drafted script. "The company recently received a formal written complaint against you. The complainant is your direct supervisor, Victoria Evans. The complaint states that despite knowing you were pregnant, you concealed your medical status and participated in high-intensity team-building activities, resulting in an onsite accident that caused reputational damage and administrative issues for the company."

My grip on the phone tightened until my knuckles turned white.

"Furthermore," he continued, "according to Section 11 of the Employee Health Guidelines, employees must notify HR and their direct supervisor within five business days of confirming a pregnancy. You are well past that window. Based on these two violations, the company requires you to submit a written explanation within three business days, or face immediate termination for gross misconduct."

The white ceiling of the hospital room seemed to spin.

"Harold, Victoria Evans dumped a bucket of ice water directly onto my head. I was hiding in a corner to avoid the water, and she targeted me."

Harold went quiet for two seconds.

"Jane, regarding the events of that day, Ms. Evans has submitted a comprehensive report along with signed liability waivers from everyone present. The entire team signed off that the event was safe and orderly, including you. We have to base our decisions on the written evidence. Surely you understand that?"

"That signature is a forgery."

"That is a serious accusation, and you would need to provide proof," Harold said, his voice completely flat. "Submit your written statement first. We will handle other issues through formal channels."

"I am currently hospitalized to prevent a miscarriage. The doctor ordered absolute bed rest."

"Then you can have a family member submit it on your behalf. Ms. Evans mentioned she doesn't want to blow this out of proportion. You're in the same department, after all. It's best to resolve this amicably, don't you think?"

*Amicably.*

The word tasted like poison.

After hanging up, my hand remained frozen, pressing the phone so hard against my ear that my fingers left a mark.

At 10:40 AM, a Snapchat notification popped up.

It was a private message from Victoria.

[Jane, sweetie, Harold’s call was just standard corporate procedure. Don't be nervous. I'm actually looking out for you here—with your health like this, if you take a long leave of absence, your salary and health insurance are still covered. But if the company initiates termination, you'll lose your maternity benefits entirely. Just write the statement quickly, and I’ll pull some strings with upper management to secure your job. ❤️]

*Secure my job.*

First, she drenched me in freezing water until I almost lost my baby. Then, she forged my signature to escape liability. And now, she was using my livelihood to squeeze my throat, forcing me to sign a confession saying everything was my fault.

The critical forty-eight-hour window hadn't passed yet. Every six hours, the ultrasound wand pressed against my stomach, and every single time, I stared at that tiny, flickering light on the screen—so fragile, like a candle about to blow out in the wind.

At 2:00 PM, the fetal heart monitor suddenly began to beep frantically.

A nurse rushed in, glanced at the numbers, and immediately yelled down the hall, "Get the Chief of Obstetrics, now!"

I don't remember much of what happened next. I only remember the ceiling lights blurring into those same four white tubes.

Voices buzzed around me. "Bleeding has increased." "Get the progesterone ready."

It was excruciatingly painful. It felt like my entire lower body was being torn in half, pieced back together, and torn apart again.

Through my fading consciousness, I thought I heard Ethan’s voice.

He wasn't speaking to me; he was outside the room. His voice wasn't loud, but a few sharp words penetrated the door.

"—What are we waiting for?"

I drifted for what felt like hours.

When I finally woke up, the light outside the window had dimmed.

Ethan was sitting by my bed, his elbows resting on his knees, his head buried in his hands. It was a posture I had never seen him take—he always stood so tall.

"The baby..." My voice sounded incredibly distant.

"The baby is safe," he said, looking up at me. His eyes were bloodshot. "The Chief of Obstetrics said you must remain on absolute bed rest until week twelve."

A wave of relief washed over me, and my nose stung with tears.

He reached out, gently tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear.

Then, he stood up and walked to the window.

He pulled out his phone and dialed.

"Internal Audit. Deploy tomorrow morning. Jinlan Branch. Start with Victoria Evans. I want every transaction, every payroll adjustment, and every expense report she has touched in the last three years analyzed. Do not miss a single cent."

He hung up, but he didn't turn around.

The setting sun cast a long, imposing shadow of him across the room.

In a voice barely above a whisper, he muttered to himself, "Enough."

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