Finally, Rosa managed to pull Grace onto the lowest submerged step, keeping her head above water.
Grace was conscious but trembling uncontrollably.
“My babies,” she whispered.
Rosa pressed her forehead against Grace’s.
“Stay with me.”
Then she screamed for help again.
This time, a gardener working beyond the eastern wall heard her.
He rushed through the gate and called emergency services.
Twelve minutes later, paramedics arrived.
Grace was lifted onto a stretcher.
Her skin was pale.
Her breathing was shallow.
She clutched Rosa’s wrist.
“Don’t leave me.”
Rosa leaned close.
“I won’t.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
As the ambulance doors closed, Rosa looked toward the balcony.
Eleanor was gone.
But something glittered beside the broken cable mounting.
Rosa approached.
A small metal fastener lay on the stone.
She picked it up.
Fresh scratches marked the locking mechanism.
The metal hadn’t simply corroded.
It had been deliberately disturbed.
Rosa turned toward the mansion.
A terrible realization settled over her.
Someone had wanted Grace to fall.
And the only person who had watched without helping might know exactly who.
The emergency department at St. Catherine’s Medical Center smelled of antiseptic and stale coffee.
Rosa sat outside the examination room, staring at her injured hands.
The skin across her palms had been torn open by the cable.
Blood had dried beneath her fingernails.
A nurse approached with bandages.
“Mrs. Martinez, you need treatment.”
“After Grace.”
“The doctors are examining her.”
“After Grace,” Rosa repeated.
She couldn’t stop remembering the moment Grace disappeared beneath the water.
The lavender dress.
The pale face.
The terrible silence.
Rosa had raised her daughter alone. She knew what it meant to love a child so fiercely that the thought of losing them became unbearable.
But Grace was carrying five.
Five tiny lives that had already survived so much.
Three miscarriages.
Years of fertility treatments.
Countless injections, appointments, and disappointments.
Rosa remembered the morning Grace first showed her the ultrasound.
Five small shapes.
Five fluttering heartbeats.
Grace had cried so hard she could barely speak.
“I thought I’d never be a mother,” she’d whispered.
Rosa had embraced her.
“You already are.”
Now those five heartbeats were being monitored behind a closed hospital door.
And Rosa could do nothing except wait.
The elevator doors opened.
Daniel Whitmore stepped out.
At forty-one, Daniel was one of Manhattan’s most successful real estate developers.
He was usually composed, even under enormous pressure.
Now his face was white.
“Where’s Grace?”
Rosa stood.
“Mr. Whitmore—”
“Where is my wife?”
“They’re examining her.”
“What happened?”
Rosa swallowed.
“She fell into the swimming pool.”
Daniel stared.
“What?”
“The cable broke. She was hanging above the deep end.”
His eyes dropped to Rosa’s bandaged hands.
“You tried to save her?”
Rosa nodded.
“I couldn’t pull her back.”
Daniel gripped the edge of a nearby chair.
“Is she alive?”
“Yes.”
“And the babies?”
“We don’t know yet.”
For a moment, Daniel looked as though he might collapse.
Then a physician emerged.
“Mr. Whitmore?”
Daniel turned immediately.
“I’m Dr. Olivia Grant. Your wife is stable for the moment.”
He exhaled.
“And our children?”
Dr. Grant’s expression softened.
“We’ve confirmed cardiac activity in all five fetuses.”
Rosa covered her mouth.
Daniel closed his eyes.
“Thank God.”
“However,” Dr. Grant continued, “Grace experienced significant physical trauma. We’re monitoring her for placental complications and premature labor.”
“Can I see her?”
“Yes. Briefly.”
Daniel entered the room.
Grace lay beneath white hospital blankets, an oxygen cannula resting beneath her nose.
Her hair was still damp.
Her eyes filled when she saw him.
“Daniel.”
He crossed the room and kissed her forehead.
“Oh, sweetheart.”
She began crying.
“I thought I was going to die.”
He held her hand.
“I’m here.”
“My babies—”
“They’re alive.”
“All five?”
“All five.”
Grace covered her face.
Then she whispered, “Your mother watched me.”
Daniel went still.
“What?”
“She stood on the balcony.”
Grace’s voice trembled.
“I begged her to call for help.”
Daniel stared at her.
“She didn’t?”
Grace shook her head.
“She just watched.”
He looked toward the door.
Rosa stood outside.
Their eyes met.
And Daniel understood that Grace wasn’t confused.
She wasn’t exaggerating.
Something terrible had happened.
That evening, Daniel returned to the Whitmore mansion.
Eleanor was sitting in the library, drinking tea.
She looked up when he entered.
“How is Grace?”
Daniel stared at her.
“You tell me.”
Eleanor lowered her cup.
“Excuse me?”
“You saw what happened.”
Her expression remained calm.
“I saw some commotion near the pool.”
“Commotion?”
“Daniel, there’s no need to raise your voice.”
“My pregnant wife was hanging above a swimming pool!”
Eleanor’s fingers tightened around the porcelain handle.
“I didn’t understand what was happening.”
“Rosa screamed for help.”
“I couldn’t hear clearly.”
“Grace called your name.”
Eleanor looked toward the fireplace.
Daniel stepped closer.
“Why didn’t you call an ambulance?”
“I was frightened.”
He stared at her.
His mother had negotiated hostile corporate takeovers.
She had confronted armed intruders during a charity event.
She had once directed an entire hotel evacuation during a fire without showing the slightest panic.
Yet she expected him to believe she had been too frightened to use a telephone.
“Mother,” Daniel said quietly, “I’m giving you one chance to tell me the truth.”
Eleanor rose.
“The truth is that Grace has become increasingly reckless.”
Daniel’s expression hardened.
“Be careful.”
“She insisted on walking near the construction area despite her condition.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“Pregnancy can affect judgment.”
“Stop.”
Eleanor folded her arms.
“Daniel, you’re allowing that woman to turn you against your own family.”
He stared at her.
Then he spoke with a calmness that frightened even him.
“If you ever put Grace or my children in danger again, you will never see any of us.”
Eleanor’s lips parted.
“You would choose her over your own mother?”
Daniel stepped toward the door.
“I already did.”
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