“My sister smiled as she handed me a drink and whispered, ‘Let me take care of you today,’ then watched me collapse while my parents blamed me for seeking attention—but when doctors discovered a sedating substance in my body, my husband and I began to suspect this wasn’t just another cruel family game.”

The search warrant on Megan’s apartment yielded far more than anyone expected.

Detective Vance called David and me into the Columbus Police Department three days after my father's arrest. My father had been released on a fifty-thousand-dollar bond, secured against my parents' house, and was currently awaiting his arraignment on third-degree felony witness tampering.

We sat in a small conference room with sterile gray walls and a fluorescent light that hummed faintly overhead. Rachel had insisted on driving us; she sat beside me, clutching a notebook like an attack dog waiting for a command.

Detective Vance laid a series of manila folders and evidence photographs on the table.

"The crime lab completed the quantitative analysis on the juice," Vance began, leaning back in his chair. "The orange juice remaining in the pitcher and the glass contained dissolved Zolpidem Tartrate. Specifically, three 10mg tablets."

Rachel let out a low whistle. "Thirty milligrams? That’s three times the maximum single therapeutic dose for an adult."

"For a pregnant woman with altered renal clearance and expanded blood volume, Dr. Green noted it could have caused profound central nervous system depression, fetal hypoxia, and severe maternal hypotension," Vance said grimly. "In layman's terms: it could have easily killed both Mrs. Carter and the unborn child."

I pulled my sweater tighter around myself, feeling a cold chill settle into my bones. "Where did she get the pills?"

Vance opened the top folder. "Your mother."

I closed my eyes. "Mom has an Ambien prescription for insomnia."

"Had," Vance corrected. "Her doctor prescribed thirty pills ten days ago. When officers executed the search warrant at your parents' residence following your father's arrest, the bottle was found in Linda Carter's nightstand. Eleven pills were missing. Linda claims she didn't know Megan took them."

"Of course she claims that," Rachel muttered. "Linda would throw herself into traffic before admitting she helped Megan."

"We can't prove Linda handed her the pills," Vance conceded. "Not yet. But what we found on Megan's laptop and cell phone removes any doubt regarding intent."

He slid three printed sheets of paper across the table toward David and me.

They were forensic printouts of Megan’s internet search history from her laptop, spanning the forty-eight hours prior to my baby shower.

I looked down at the words printed on the stark white paper:

* *How much Ambien causes a blackout?*

* *Can you taste sleeping pills in orange juice?*

* *Does Ambien dissolve in cold liquid?*

* *Can a fall at 32 weeks cause early labor?*

* *Will fainting ruin a baby shower?*

David's breath caught in his throat. His entire body went rigid. "Look at the fourth search, Vance. Look at that."

*Can a fall at 32 weeks cause early labor?*

She didn't just want me to pass out to ruin the party.

She wanted me to lose the baby.

The horrifying truth settled over the room like suffocating smoke. Megan hadn't just been jealous of the attention. She couldn't stomach the reality of my happiness existing permanently in the form of a living, breathing child. If I had a baby, the family dynamic would shift forever. I would be a mother. I would have something she couldn't replicate, couldn't steal, couldn't outshine.

"This is attempted murder," David said, his voice shaking with a terrifying, cold certainty. "This isn't simple assault. She researched the gestational age. She researched the consequences of a traumatic fall."

"The prosecutor’s office agrees," Vance said, his face grim. "Based on these digital records, the tox results, and the witness testimony regarding the specific delivery of the glass, the Franklin County Prosecutor is upgrading the charges. We are filing an indictment for Attempted Aggravated Vehicular or Physical Assault, Corrupting Another with Drugs, and Attempted Involuntary Termination of Pregnancy."

"When are you arresting her?" Rachel asked, leaning forward.

"The arrest warrant was signed twenty minutes ago," Vance said, checking his watch. "A tactical unit is en route to your parents' house right now. We know she's staying there."

Just then, my phone buzzed on the table.

It was an unknown number.

I hesitated, looking at Vance. He nodded toward the speaker button. "Put it on speaker. Let it record."

I pressed the green icon and set the phone down. "Hello?"

"Emma! Emma, you have to stop them!"

It was my mother's voice, shrill, breathless, bordering on complete hysteria. In the background, I could hear sirens wailing in the distance and loud pounding against a wooden door.

"Mom?"

"The police are in our driveway!" Mom shrieked. "There are three cruisers outside! They have guns, Emma! For Megan! Your sister is hiding in the bathroom, having a panic attack! Tell them to leave! Tell them whatever you told the detective wasn't true!"

"Mom," I said, my voice steady, sounding clearer and stronger than it ever had in my life. "Megan searched online whether a fall would kill my baby before she put thirty milligrams of Ambien in my glass."

Silence fell over the line.

For three seconds, the sirens grew louder in the background.

"She... she was just confused," Mom stammered, her voice suddenly small, pathetic. "She didn't mean it like that. Emma, please. If she goes to prison, she won't survive. She's your sister. She's your older sister!"

"And I am a mother," I replied. "My daughter almost didn't survive Megan. Goodbye, Mom."

Through the phone, I heard the splintering crash of wood as the police breached my parents' front door.

*“Police department! Search warrant! Hands where I can see them!”*

I pressed the red button and ended the call.

I looked at David. He reached over, took my hand, and held it tightly in both of his.