Chapter 5 - The Sedative
My mother straightened her shoulders, attempting to regain her cold, aristocratic composure.
"You're confused, Ethan. You're in severe emotional shock—"
"MY WIFE HAS A PULSE, MOTHER!" I shrieked, my voice echoing off the high ceiling. "AND MY SON IS KICKING INSIDE HER!"
"She was pronounced dead by a private medical examiner!" Nathan interjected defensively, taking a step forward from the bar.
"Pronounced dead by WHO?!" I shouted back, stepping between them and the coffin. "Name the examiner, Nathan! Show me the death certificate!"
Silence fell over the room once again—heavy, suffocating, and guilty.
I turned back to Claire, leaning over her chest.
Her sternum was rising and falling in shallow, almost imperceptible intervals—maybe four breaths a minute.
Her pupils were pinpoint under her eyelids.
She hadn't suffered a fatal medical complication.
Someone had heavily drugged her with an advanced paralytic or deep surgical sedative.
Someone had placed my living, pregnant wife inside a wooden coffin, intending for her and my unborn child to suffocate six feet underground before I could ever ask questions.
I whipped my phone out of my pocket, my hands shaking as I dialed 911.
Nathan suddenly moved toward the hallway leading to the back garage.
I cut across the mahogany floor, slamming my shoulder into his chest and shoving him violently back against the wall.
"Where the hell do you think you're going?!" I roared into his face.
"To... to get help from the neighborhood clinic!" Nathan stammered, panic finally cracking his smooth persona.
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"The police and county paramedics are already on the line!" I growled, holding the phone to my ear as the dispatcher answered.
Nathan went entirely rigid against the wall.
