I Went To My Daughter’s House After A Vacation And Found My Expecting Daughter Alone, In Serious Condition In The Hospital, While My Son-In-Law Was On A Yacht In Hawaii And Not Answering Calls, So I Updated Access To The Shared Accounts And Made One Call To My Attorney, And Two Hours Later He Called ME In A Rush…

Martinez.”

The 15 minutes I waited in that sterile lobby felt like hours. My hands, usually so steady in board meetings and business negotiations, trembled as I clutched my pearl bracelet. When Dr.

Martinez finally appeared—a tired-looking woman in her 40s with kind eyes—I could read the gravity in her expression before she spoke a single word. “Mrs. Barry, I’m Dr.

Martinez. Your daughter is in our ICU.”

The words hit me like a physical blow. “What happened?”

“She was brought in three days ago by a neighbor who found her unconscious in her front yard.

She’d collapsed from severe dehydration, malnutrition, and stress-induced complications. At eight months pregnant, her condition was critical.”

Three days. My daughter had been fighting for her life for three days, and I’d been sipping champagne at a bistro in Montmartre.

“The baby?”

“We’re monitoring both closely. Isabella is stable now, but it was touch and go for the first 48 hours. If Mrs.

Henderson hadn’t found her when she did…”

Dr. Martinez’s voice trailed off, but the implication was clear. “Can I see her?”

“Of course, but I should prepare you.

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