At her signal, a bodyguard kicked over the medical waste bin.
Needles scattered across the floor. Dozens of them. The fluorescent light caught their tips—cold, sharp, glinting.
Ruth looked down at me from Cyril's arms, chin lifted like a queen passing sentence.
"Pick them all up. Do that, and I'll cover your consultation fee."
Cyril's gaze slid over me—brief, dismissive.
He turned to his assistant. "Do as she says."
Then he strode toward the operating room, Ruth cradled against his chest, and didn't look back.
Not once.
I knelt on the ground, sweeping my hands across the floor, groping blindly.
Within minutes, all ten fingers were riddled with puncture wounds—skin shredded, blood streaming down my wrists. Not an inch of flesh left intact.
But Nora's cries were growing weaker.
I had no choice. I stuck out my tongue and began to lick the floor, searching for needles by taste.
Half an hour later, I cupped a handful of bloodied needles and looked up at the doctor. When I spoke, blood kept welling from my mouth, spilling down my chin.
"They're all here. Please... save my daughter..."
The words left me, and so did consciousness. I collapsed.
When I woke, the sharp tang of disinfectant filled my nose.
Instinctively, I reached out—but my arms found only empty sheets. No warm little body. No soft breath against my skin.
"Nora..."
I staggered out of bed and lurched toward the Doctor's Office, bare feet slapping against cold linoleum. Through the window, I spotted her—my daughter, cradled in the arms of the female doctor who had treated her last night.
Dr. Hazel Grant rocked Nora gently, feeding her from a bottle. Her eyes were soft with pity.
"What a sin," she murmured. "Born a legitimate heiress, and yet because of that sister's jealousy, she can't even have her own mother's milk. The poor little thing."
Her colleague leaned in, voice dropping low.
"You're telling me. And get this—the paternity test? Mr. Sanchez personally supervised the forgery. The plan is to pin it on the hospital in a year, claim we made the mistake, and use that to coax the mother and daughter back. He threw millions at us to play along with this charade. Rich people and their games, honestly."