By the time the ambulance doors burst open at Mercy General, Ethan Whitaker had already died once.

Twenty minutes later, Nora was escorted under armed guard to the high-risk maternity ward at Mercy General—the very same hospital where six floors down, her husband lay in a medically induced coma.

Dr. Ellison stepped out of the ICU and met Caleb in the hallway outside Nora’s room.

"How is Ethan?" Caleb asked directly.

Mara wiped a tired hand across her face. "He’s stabilized, but barely. The Digibind bound most of the circulating toxin, but the damage to his myocardium is severe. He’s on full life support. If he suffers another cardiac arrest, his brain won't survive it. He’s in a medically induced coma to reduce metabolic demand."

"And the wife?"

"She’s having Braxton Hicks contractions triggered by extreme stress," Mara said, eyeing the uniformed officer posted at Nora's door. "Detective, I’ve treated Nora Whitaker for three years. She came to every prenatal appointment alone. She was terrified of losing this child after two miscarriages. I find it very hard to believe she would ingest a cardiac toxin while carrying a high-risk pregnancy."

"The evidence doesn't care about your instincts, Doctor," Caleb replied flatly. "Her fingerprints are on the poisoned jar. Her dish towel had the residue. And her husband was killed by a soup only she prepared."

"Then someone wanted her to take the fall," Mara said sharply. "Digitoxin isn't something you buy at a corner pharmacy. It requires specialized botanical extraction or access to high-grade research facilities."

Caleb paused. "Research facilities?"

"The Whitaker Foundation," Mara pointed out, leaning closer. "Doesn't Ethan’s foundation fund pharmaceutical research grants across the state?"

Caleb’s eyes narrowed. He pulled out his notebook and jotted down a quick note just as Vanessa Cole walked down the corridor carrying two paper cups of coffee.

"Doctor! Detective!" Vanessa said, her voice breathy with emotion. "I brought coffee. How is he? Is Ethan going to make it?"

"He’s fighting," Mara said coolly, noticing the flawless mascara and styled hair on a woman who claimed to have rushed out of bed at midnight. "Mrs. Cole, isn't it? You mentioned you were at the office until six last night?"

"Yes," Vanessa said, offering a cup to Caleb. "Ethan and I were reviewing the Q3 budget reports for the bio-tech grants."

"Did Ethan seem altered? Confused? Distressed?" Caleb asked.

"Now that I think about it..." Vanessa hesitated, biting her lower lip convincingly. "He was very tense. He kept receiving phone calls on his private line. Every time the phone rang, he would step out onto the balcony. And... well, I shouldn't say this without proof."

"Miss Cole," Caleb said sternly, "this is an attempted murder investigation. Speak."

Vanessa took a trembling breath. "Ethan told me last week that he was thinking about filing for divorce. He said Nora’s mood swings had become unbearable, and he suspected she was hiding money from their joint accounts. He said if she found out about the divorce before the papers were served, she would ruin him."

Inside the hospital room, Nora had her ear pressed against the heavy wooden door, listening to every word through the small ventilation grate.

Tears streamed silently down her face. A divorce? Hiding money? Ethan had held her hand two nights ago, pressing his palm against her belly to feel their daughter kick. He had kissed her forehead and whispered that she was his entire world.

Someone was systematically erasing the man she loved and replacing him with a stranger—all to frame her for his murder.

Nora looked around the sterile room. A single window overlooked the fire escape. The uniformed guard outside was facing the hallway, chatting with a nurse.