The ambulance sped through the streets of London, its siren wailing like a desperate cry. Inside, Emily lay unconscious, hovering between life and death. The lead doctor, a grey-haired man named Dr. Whitmore, checked her pulse repeatedly and barked orders at the nurses:
“Faster! Keep the pressure steadydont let her lose any more blood. The baby still has a chance!”
Beside her, Rosie wrung her hands, whispering prayers. Her heart clenched with guiltwhy hadnt she stepped in sooner, back at the manor? She remembered Isabellas icy expression, her gaze as cold as a blade, and finally, she understood the truth.
**The Emergency Room**
When Emilys gurney was wheeled into the emergency room, Richard lunged at the doctors, his eyes red with tears and fury.
“Please, save her! Her and our baby I cant lose them!”
Dr. Whitmore gave him a stern, professional lookno time for dramatics.
“Mr. Harrington, wait outside. Were doing everything humanly possible.”
Richard stood frozen for a moment, then crumpled onto a bench in the hallway. He buried his face in his hands, and for the first time in his life, the self-assured man felt the ground give way beneath him.
Behind the closed doors, the medical team fought for Emilys life. Her breathing was shallow, but her heart still beat. The baby, however, was in critical condition. Machines beeped relentlessly, the tension thick.
**The Waiting Room**
Isabella strode into the hospital, flanked by two close friends hastily summoned to play the role of concerned witnesses. Her face was stony, but her trembling voice impressed those around her:
“That poor girl how could she have slipped like that? I only wanted us to be a united family.”
Rosie, huddled in a corner, glared at her with smouldering hatred. If only shed had the courage to speak the truth then, maybe it could have been stopped. But fear of Isabellas powerher influence in the city, the way she could ruin livesparalysed her.
**Richard and His Mother**
“Mum!” Richard burst out, shooting to his feet. “Where were you when this happened? Rosie says you were right beside her!”
Isabella touched his arm with false tenderness.
“Darling, I was upstairs. I only saw her fall It all happened so fast. God, if only I could have caught her!”
Fake tears streamed down her cheeks, but Richard wasnt sure what to believe. A crack had formed in his trustsmall but deep.
**News from the Operating Theatre**
After hours of unbearable tension, the theatre doors swung open. Dr. Whitmore, exhaustion lining his face, approached Richard.
“Mr. Harrington, your wife is alive. It was touch and go, but weve stabilised her. However the baby”
His words faltered, and Richard understood without needing them spelled out. His world collapsed. He staggered, bracing himself against the wall as tears streamed down his face.
“Doctor I need to see her.”
“Shell be moved to a ward soon. She needs rest. But there were marks on her chest and arms. They dont look like they came from a fall. Im obliged to report this.”
Isabella, overhearing, stiffened for a split second before recovering. She embraced her son, her false sweetness dripping like poison.
“Dont listen to them, my love. You know how quickly rumours spread. You just need peace now.”
**Emilys Awakening**
Hours later, Emily opened her eyes. Pale and weak, she could barely breathe. Richard kissed her hand, fighting back tears.
“Emily my love youre here with me.”
She held his gaze, then her eyes filled with tears. She reached for her stomachbut the emptiness told her everything. A ragged sob escaped her lips.
“Our baby”
Richard pulled her close, whispering, “Well get through this together. I have you, and thats all that matters.”
But deeper than the grief for her child, Emily now carried another certainty: the woman who should have protected her had instead orchestrated the tragedy.
**Rosies Confession**
Days later, Rosie could stay silent no longer. Finding Emily alone in the ward, she spoke in a trembling voice.
“Mrs. Harrington you need to know the truth. You didnt just fall. Mrs. Isabella she pushed you. I saw it.”
Emilys face drained of colour. It was the truth shed suspectedbut hearing it confirmed was a knife to the heart.
“Rosie why tell me only now?”
“I was scared. You know the power she holds But I cant live with this guilt anymore.”
Emily gripped her hand, her voice stronger than expected.
“I swear to you, she wont get away with this.”
**The Investigation**
Days later, the Metropolitan Police launched an official inquiry. Doctors statements, the bruises on Emilys body, and Rosies testimony all formed the pieces of a damning puzzle.
But Isabella wasnt a woman who surrendered easily. Her lawyers were already scheming, and influential friends worked to bury the scandal.
Richard was torn between love for his mother and the horrifying truth. Emilys silent suffering haunted himand Rosies words were impossible to ignore.
**The Final Confrontation**
One evening, Richard walked into the drawing room where Isabella sat, elegant and cold as ever.
“Mother, tell me the truth. Did you push Emily?”
Isabella lifted her chin defiantly.
“Everything I did was for your sake. She wasnt worthy of you. She would have ruined our family. I saved us.”
Richard stared at her in horror.
“No you destroyed everything. You killed our child. And for that, Ill never forgive you.”
His words struck like lightning. Isabella remained still, but her eyes burned with impotent hatred.
**Epilogue**
The trial that followed shook London. Newspapers dubbed it “The Harrington Tragedy,” and people debated it in pubs and parlours alike.
Though fragile, Emily found the strength to testify. Rosie backed every word. The doctors presented irrefutable evidence.
Isabella Harrington, once feared and respected, was sentenced to years in prison for attempted murder.
Richard and Emily, scarred but unbroken, found solace in each others arms. They vowed to start anewto never let the shadows of the past darken their future.
But deep in Emilys heart, the wound of losing her child would never heal. And every time she climbed the marble steps of the manor, a cold shiver ran down her spinea reminder that a jealous mothers hatred could cut deeper than any blade.
