Chapter 4 - The Hospital Bed Trap
By the time the ambulance sirens faded into the background, I was wheeled into an emergency delivery suite at Mount Sinai Hospital. The contractions were coming back-to-back, sharp and agonizing. The medical staff swarmed around me, shouting instructions, setting up IV lines, and monitoring the baby’s distress.
Yet, amidst the chaos of a premature labor, Special Agent Reeves remained stationed right outside my recovery curtain, holding my encrypted laptop and secure phone.
At 6:00 p.m., my phone buzzed again. Another message from Ethan, followed by an incoming FaceTime call.
I looked at the lead obstetrician standing over me. “Can I take this?”
“Quickly, Ms. Morgan. Your blood pressure is spiking, but if you need to set a trap, do it now before we wheel you into theater,” she instructed firmly.
I accepted the video call and propped the phone against my hospital pillow, keeping my face hidden in shadow so the bright lights wouldn't give away the clinical monitors beeping behind me.
Ethan’s face popped onto the screen. He was sitting in the VIP lounge of a high-end Manhattan hotel, wearing a tailored tuxedo shirt, swirling a glass of whiskey. Behind him, I could hear the clinking of crystal and muffled laughter from his rehearsal dinner party.
“Finally,” Ethan snapped, rolling his eyes. “Look, Claire, Mom told me you called cops to the penthouse. Are you out of your mind? Do you know what this looks like for my reputation right before the wedding tomorrow?”
I kept my voice weak, playing into his arrogant assumption that I was broken. “Ethan… my water broke. I’m at the hospital.”
Ethan let out an exasperated sigh, waving his hand dismissively. “Oh, please. You've always been dramatic. Just take a photo of you signing the deed transfer paperwork and text it to me. Once Chloe and I have the keys, you can deal with your little medical emergency however you want.”
“I need you to come here,” I whispered, letting a fake tear slip down my cheek. “Mom and Dad left me on the floor. I'm scared.”
Ethan scoffed. “I’m hosting a rehearsal dinner with elite guests, Claire. I’m not running to a hospital because you slipped on a rug. Just sign the damn papers and send them over, or don't ever expect to speak to me again.”
Before I could reply, a deep, resonant voice spoke clearly from just off-camera, right beside my bed.
“Mr. Morgan, you might want to postpone that rehearsal dinner,” Agent Reeves said, stepping directly into the frame of the FaceTime camera, flashing his gleaming federal badge right in front of Ethan’s face.
Ethan’s whiskey glass froze halfway to his mouth. The color drained entirely from his flushed, arrogant face.
“Who the hell are you?” Ethan stammered.
“Special Agent Reeves, FBI Financial Crimes Unit,” Reeves replied smoothly, leaning close to the camera. “We’ve just executed a federal search warrant on your penthouse, secured the forged deed, and frozen all corporate assets tied to Meridian Holdings. Furthermore, your sister isn't just signing paperwork tonight, Mr. Morgan—she’s swearing out a formal federal affidavit for corporate identity theft, fraud, and reckless endangerment.”
Ethan stood up so fast his barstool crashed backward onto the hotel floor. “You’re insane! That’s my family’s property—!”
“It was your sister’s property, bought with her own capital,” Reeves interrupted coldly. “And right now, while you’re hosting a dinner, federal marshals are currently walking into your wedding venue with a bench warrant for your arrest.”
Click.
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Reeves ended the FaceTime call, sliding my phone into an evidence bag. He turned to look down at me as the obstetrician stepped forward with a reassuring nod.
“It’s time, Ms. Morgan. Let’s bring your baby into the world. Leave the rest to us.”
