Chapter 2 - The Police and the PanicTen minutes later, Detective Raymond Shaw of the Chicago Police Department walked into the waiting room. He was a veteran investigator with tired eyes and a heavy trench coat that smelled of rain and cheap coffee.

"Daniel Bennett?" Shaw asked, flashing his badge. "I received the dispatch. Your mother and brother are currently being detained at your residence. My officers have secured the living room... and the coffin."
"Did they find the sedatives?" I asked, my voice deadly quiet.
"We found a discarded syringe in the trash can in the master bathroom, and a teapot in the kitchen containing traces of a concentrated veterinary anesthetic," Shaw said, pulling out a small notebook. "But we have a problem, Daniel. Your mother's attorney, Arthur Vance, arrived at the house ten minutes after my officers did. He's already claiming that your wife suffered from severe prenatal depression, tried to self-medicate, and your mother merely found her 'apparently deceased' and panicked, trying to avoid a public scandal."
I let out a harsh, bitter laugh. "Panicked? She bought a custom-sized mahogany coffin, hired a private funeral service without a death certificate, and had my brother standing by to toast the inheritance with whiskey. That’s not panic, Detective. That’s execution."
"I believe you," Shaw said, his voice softening. "But in court, defense attorneys can twist anything. We need physical evidence connecting Beatrice and Marcus directly to the administration of that drug. We need Elena to wake up and tell us what happened."
Just then, the red "Operating" light above the surgery doors turned off.
My heart stopped. I stood up so fast my chair scraped loudly against the linoleum.
Dr. David Cole walked out, his surgical mask hanging around his neck. His face was pale, his forehead beaded with sweat, but as his eyes met mine, a small, weary smile broke through.
"She’s alive, Daniel," David said. "And you have a daughter."
I collapsed back into the chair, burying my face in my hands as a dry, heavy sob tore from my throat.
"How is the baby?" I managed to ask.
"She’s small, six pounds, and she had some respiratory depression from the anesthetic, but our NICU team got her breathing," David explained. "We’ve got her in an incubator just to monitor her oxygen levels. Elena is still under the anesthesia, but she’s stable. We’ve placed her in a secure ICU room. Detective, I strongly suggest you put a guard at that door. If Daniel’s family is as ruthless as he says, they won't let her speak."
"Already done, Doctor," Detective Shaw said, picking up his radio. "I want two uniformed officers outside ICU room 402. No visitors except Daniel Bennett. Anyone else tries to enter, arrest them on the spot."
"Thank you, Detective," I said, wiping my face. "Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some business to take care of."
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"Where are you going, Daniel?" Shaw asked, his eyes narrowing.
"I need to visit our company headquarters," I said, my voice turning to steel. "My mother and brother didn't just try to kill my wife today. They’ve been stealing from Bennett Properties for the last six months. And I'm about to cut off their oxygen."