During my last prenatal appointment, the hallway of the Valencia General Hospital felt unusually quiet. It was a bright April morning, but inside the ultrasound room the atmosphere felt heavy, almost frozen. I lay on the exam table as Dr. Serrano moved the probe across my belly—her movements were usually steady, focused, reassuring.
But this time… she stopped.
Completely.
“Ma’am…” she finally murmured, her voice barely audible. “Your baby… has stopped growing.”
The world around me went silent, as if someone had plunged me underwater.
“What do you mean? Why?” I forced out, even as my throat tightened.
She didn’t answer immediately. She rechecked the screen, measured again, frowned.
Then she looked at me with an unsettling seriousness.
“I need to ask you something. Are you taking any medication? Any supplements?”
“Just prenatal vitamins.”
“Did you buy them yourself… or did someone else give them to you?”
A cold pulse shot through my chest. Something in her tone felt wrong.
“A… friend gave them to me,” I said slowly. “At least… that’s what I thought.”
Clara. The coworker who had taken a strange interest in my pregnancy from day one. The same woman who had practically pushed a shiny box of “premium vitamins” into my hands, insisting she had special access to them.
The doctor’s expression tightened with concern.
“Do you still have the box? I need you to bring it to me today.”
I nodded, unable to speak.
She took my hand. Her grip was steady, but her eyes were tense.
“Listen carefully. We may not be dealing with normal vitamins.”
The ground seemed to tilt beneath me.
“What are you saying?” I whispered.
“That your baby may have been exposed to something harmful. Something very harmful.”
My pulse quickened. Every odd thing Clara had said or done resurfaced like a nightmare.
Just then, the exam room door opened abruptly.
A young nurse rushed in, looking pale and distressed.
“Doctor, you need to come. It’s urgent.”
“I’m with a patient,” Dr. Serrano said sharply.
The nurse shook her head. “It’s about the preliminary test of the vitamins the lab reviewed. You need to see this.”
My stomach dropped.
“What… what’s wrong with them?” I asked.
The doctor stood up and motioned for the nurse to close the door.
“Look,” she said to me. “A few weeks ago, the hospital alerted staff about suspected cases—pregnant women taking adulterated supplements. I didn’t imagine it could involve you. Not until now.”
My heartbeat thundered in my ears.
“Adulterated? With what?”
“With fetal growth inhibitors,” the nurse answered, eyes wide. “Experimental, illegal substances.”
I felt my breath vanish.
“But… who would do something so awful?”
The doctor looked at me gravely.
“Someone who wanted to harm your pregnancy. Or harm you.”
Clara’s face flashed in my mind—her sugary smile, the box she pressed into my hands, and all her chilling, seemingly “innocent” comments:
“Such a shame a baby might slow your career…”
“With your talent, it would be tragic if this pregnancy set you back…”
“Some pregnancies go perfectly… others don’t.”
The doctor’s voice pulled me back.
“I need the box. Immediately. And I need to know who gave it to you.”
“It was Clara,” I whispered. “She works with me. I… I trusted her.”
The doctor and nurse exchanged a tense look.
“This could be a criminal investigation,” Dr. Serrano said. “We must act quickly.”
Before I could process anything, my phone vibrated.
A message from Clara.
Just one line:
“Don’t open that box in front of anyone.”
My entire body turned to ice.
Dr. Serrano read it over my shoulder. Her face hardened.
“This is no longer just suspicion,” she said. “Hospital security and police need to be informed immediately.”
My hands shook uncontrollably.
“Do you think she might be… watching me?” I whispered.
“We’ll move you to a secure room while we contact administration,” the nurse said.
But I shook my head.
“No. If getting that box can save my baby, I have to get it myself.”
The doctor hesitated, then nodded reluctantly.
“Fine. But you won’t go alone. Security will escort you. We don’t know how dangerous this is.”
The next moments were a blur of hallways, signatures, security badges. A guard followed me to my car, then trailed me in his own vehicle to my apartment building.
Every stair creaked under my feet as I climbed toward my door.
I went straight to the drawer where I kept the vitamins, pulled it open…
The box was gone.
My body went numb.
“No… no, this can’t be,” I breathed.
The guard rushed inside.
“Are you certain it was here? Does anyone else have access?”
“Only me… and Clara. She visited me a few times when I wasn’t feeling well.”
As soon as I said it, regret punched me in the chest. If Clara came back… what was she trying to erase?
Or… what was she planning next?
After the guard checked the apartment, we drove back to the hospital. A police officer was waiting. They questioned me, documented everything, studied Clara’s message. A picture began forming—deliberate tampering, public health violations, and possibly something far more personal.
But amid all the terror, one piece of hope emerged:
Although the baby’s growth had stalled, Dr. Serrano said there was still time to reverse the effects—if we acted immediately.
“All is not lost,” she assured me. “We’re going to fight for your child.”
Still, unease lingered.
Because Clara was still out there.
And I didn’t know what she wanted.
That night, while I was under observation, my phone buzzed again.
Not Clara this time.
A stranger.
Just three words:
“It’s too late.”
Chills rippled through me.
But beneath the fear, something fierce awakened—raw determination. No matter who was behind this, no matter what they intended…
I would fight for my baby.
And now I need your opinion:
What should I do? Confront Clara? Let the police take over? Or is there something more hidden that I’m missing?
If you were in my place… what would you do next?
