Chapter 3

Williams’s flashbacks:

She was a teenager again, sprinting across the sun-warmed yard, bare feet slapping against rough concrete. The air smelled of wet grass and late-spring blossoms, but it could not mask the metallic tang of fear clinging to her lungs. Faces loomed, blurred and menacing. She darted between them, her heartbeat pounding like a war drum.

She stumbled into a narrow room and slammed the door behind her. Her breath came ragged, sweat beading her hairline. Pressing herself against the wood, she trembled as the pounding grew louder. Laughter followed — sharp, cruel, jagged.

“Open up! Open the door!”

“Leave me alone!” she gasped. The footsteps scraped closer and closer. She had no strength to hold the door forever. Tears blurred her sight as she whispered into the stale air, “Please… leave me alone…”

But the laughter only intensified.

Then, suddenly, she was back in her bath, the room scented faintly of lavender soap. Her palms pressed into the smooth porcelain edges, the memories still thrumming through her chest like a second heartbeat. Even surrounded by warmth and safety, the terror lingered, a shadow she could not shake.

She lifted the glass of whiskey from the edge of the tub, letting the amber liquid slide down her throat. The burn grounded her, a thin line connecting past and present. Yet the memories refused to fade. Her teenage self crouched in that room, trapped and desperate, echoed in every careful movement she made now, every decision to control, to shield, to remain untouchable.

Finally, she left the water, swallowed a pill with whiskey, and collapsed onto her bed. She fell asleep naked, confident that no one would ever dare enter her private space. Woe to anyone who tried. The rules were clear: no intrusion into Madam’s private space. It was forbidden territory.

Unfortunately, one thing was exempt from these rules: her phone. Her sleep had barely deepened when it was interrupted by a call.

“Emilio, how may I help you?” she muttered, half awake.

“Williams, we have a situation. The IVF mix-up… I… I—”

“What?” Her eyes snapped open, clear and dry.

She dressed swiftly, without neglecting the elegance she always imposed on her appearance. Her driver accelerated through the rain-slick streets. Williams’s expression was not that of a woman going to work, but of someone furious, determined to uncover what had happened.

At the hospital entrance, she did not wait for her bodyguard to open the door. She was already striding forward, hair damp against her shoulders, eyes like sharpened blades. Every person who caught her gaze felt pierced to the heart. They would have surrendered everything to remain far from her control. But her return on this Sunday evening meant only one thing: urgency.

In her office, Emilio waited impatiently with Malaya.

“Explain. Now,” Williams said as she entered.

Sensing the danger in her boss’s icy tone, Malaya slipped out, leaving Emilio alone to face the storm. Williams looked like a lioness cornered, ready to devour.

“I mixed up the names,” Emilio stammered. “I inseminated the wrong patient this morning. Tonight, the real couple from the program arrived.”

“My God, Emilio.”

“I’ll take responsibility for my mistake. I promise.”

“It doesn’t matter. My signature is on it. The hospital’s name is on it.”

Every important procedure bore her approval. It was one of the strict work policies she imposed on herself. Now, this same policy was about to fail her. Her mind raced. This was no small error. A couple’s embryo had been placed in the womb of a woman who had only come for a simple check-up—a woman who was about to learn she could be pregnant.

“What do we do?” Emilio asked, tension cracking his voice.

“What do you propose, Dr. Emilio?” she replied with a question, arms crossed.

“We have no choice. We must tell them.”

“Where are they?”

“They’re waiting in the meeting room.”

The word echoed. WAITING. And for a brief moment, she was no longer in her office but a teenager again, standing on a balcony with a friend. Wind rushed through her hair, silence pressing against the sounds of nature. She remembered her friend’s words: “Hey, she wants to see you at the gym. Hurry up, she’s waiting for you.”

“Waiting for me”, she thought, caught in the past.

“Williams!” Emilio’s voice snapped her back.

“WHAT?” she barked. Only then did she realize she had completely lost herself in the memories again. Her hands trembled, almost spilling the papers she still clutched, and a thin line of blood welled from her nose. “I’ll go talk to them,” she said firmly.

“Williams, your nose….” Emilio’s tone edged with concern.

“What is wrong with my nose?” she asked, immediately touching it.

“Blood,” he observed quietly, noticing her trembling hands. “Do you need emergency care?”

“Oh, sorry. No, no.” She wiped her face with a handkerchief, forcing composure back into her posture. “I’ll go talk to them,” she added softly, heading toward the door.

“No, please, let me. I’m the one at fault,” Emilio urged.

“Do you realize what’s at stake?” she asked, eyes narrowing.

“Possibly a lawsuit, but I promise you we won’t get to that.”

Dr. Emilio Wallace was not only her employee and colleague, but also her closest friend, giving him an advantage others lacked. His face carried such genuine remorse that her heart softened. Reluctantly, she stepped back and gave him the chance to make good on his promise.

He would face the parents while Williams waited. The hospital’s reputation was at stake. Such a scandal risked not only costing them dearly but also jeopardizing their careers.

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