Elena turned to her.
“Ma’am, did you witness any of those events?”
The woman hesitated.
Donovan glared at her.
That glare made the decision for her.
“Yes,” she whispered.
Her name was Marisol.
She had worked at the estate for eleven months.
She told Elena that Donovan routinely locked Samantha out of rooms, monitored her meals, and ordered staff to report her phone calls.
He had instructed Marisol not to give Samantha the car keys and once threatened to have her deported if she interfered.
“I am a citizen,” Marisol added, wiping her face.
“But he thought I would be afraid.”
“You’re fired,” Donovan snapped.
Elena closed the folder.
“You do not employ her.
Whitmore Residential Holdings contracts the household staff.”
Regina sank back into her chair.
The first officer entered through the front hall, followed by a second carrying a body camera.
Elena met them near the kitchen and summarized the situation.
The officers reviewed the exterior footage and spoke privately with Samantha.
The medic urged her again to go to the hospital.
This time she agreed.
Before she stood, Donovan came closer.
His voice dropped into the warm, intimate tone he used whenever cruelty failed.
“Sam, don’t do this.
We’re having a baby.”
She looked at him.
Snow melted from Marcus’s coat around her shoulders and darkened the blanket beneath it.
“You remembered that when it helped you control me,” she said.
“You forgot it when I needed protection.”
His eyes hardened.
“Your father is manipulating you.”
“My father is three states away.
You are the one standing between me and the door.”
One of the officers stepped forward.
Donovan moved aside.
At the hospital, doctors monitored Samantha for several hours.
The baby’s heartbeat remained strong, but her blood pressure concerned them.
She was ordered to rest and avoid stress, an instruction that would have sounded almost funny if the morning had not been so frightening.
Edward arrived before sunset.
He entered the private room without an entourage, wearing a dark overcoat dusted with melted snow.
For one moment, the billionaire executive disappeared, and Samantha saw only her father.
He stopped beside the bed.
“I should have come sooner,” he said.
She shook her head.
“I kept telling you I was fine.”
“I knew you weren’t.”
“Then why didn’t you pull me out?”
“Because you are my daughter, not my property.” His voice cracked slightly.
“I could protect an exit.
I could not choose it for you.”
Samantha looked down at her hands.
“I thought hiding who I was would show me who Donovan really was.”
“It did.”
“Too late.”
