Chapter 2: The Last Four Digits
Part 2 ⬇️
The doctor didn't look at me when she spoke.
She looked at my husband.
"There's a substance in her system.
Not from the fall.
This was ingested — likely within the last 24 hours before the incident."
My husband went completely still.
I thought back to the cookout.
The lemonade my mother handed me personally.
The way she watched me drink it.
The way she smiled.
"Who knew you were pregnant before the family did?" the detective asked.
I said one name.
My sister.
"And who told her about the trust?"
I didn't have to answer.
We both already knew.
The detective set a photograph on the bed beside me.
It was a screenshot of a text message — sent three days before the cookout.
The message said: *It has to happen before the birth.
After that, we lose everything.*
The number wasn't saved under a name.
But I recognized the last four digits.
My mother's phone.
My daughter finally kicked — once, hard — as if she heard it too.
And then my husband's phone rang.
It was our cousin.
Her voice was shaking.
"They came to my house.
They want the video.
They said if I don't delete it, they'll—"
The line went d*ad.
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May you like
What they did next — and what was inside that folder my mother took — is worse than anything you're imagining.
Click the link below to read the full story.
