Ryan burst through the doors moments later, breathless, tie loosened, eyes wild. When he saw his mother, his jaw tightened. “Mom,” he said quietly. “Tell me you didn’t do what Emily said.”
Linda lifted her chin. “I kept your daughter safe. She wouldn’t stop moving.”
Ryan stared at her like he couldn’t make sense of what he was hearing. “Moving is what babies do.”
Before Linda could respond, the door opened and a doctor walked in—a woman in her forties with tired eyes and a name badge that read Dr. Priya Shah, Pediatrics. A social worker stood just behind her with a clipboard.
My mouth went dry.
Dr. Shah sat across from us, steady and composed. “Mrs. Carter?” she asked.
“That’s me,” I whispered.
“Your daughter is alive,” she said first, and the relief that rushed through me was so overwhelming it almost hurt. “We were able to stabilize her breathing. She’s in the pediatric ICU and is being closely monitored.”
I covered my mouth and let out a single sharp sob, like my lungs had finally been allowed to release the air they’d been holding.
But Dr. Shah’s expression remained serious. Her gaze shifted briefly toward Linda before returning to Ryan and me. “I need to be very clear,” she continued. “Sophie shows signs consistent with prolonged restraint and oxygen deprivation. There are pressure marks on her torso and upper arm. Her oxygen levels were dangerously low when she arrived.”
