The Vial Beside My Pregnant Wife

“What did you give my wife?””

Andre Mitchell’s voice cracked across the marble foyer as he stared at the tiny glass vial beside Valeria’s fallen handbag. Behind him, his pregnant wife lay unconscious on the polished floor, her lavender maternity dress spread around her like a pool of fading color. And his six-year-old daughter was screaming for a mother who wouldn’t wake up.

For one impossible second, nobody moved.

Sunlight poured through the penthouse’s enormous windows, illuminating the crystal chandelier, the cream-colored furniture, and the scattered contents of Valeria’s beige handbag. The little vial caught a sharp glint of light.

Valeria stood three feet away, dressed in an emerald silk gown. Her straight dark hair framed a face that had gone almost completely pale.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she whispered.

Andre looked at her.

Then at the vial.

Then at Camilla.

His wife’s chest rose faintly beneath the fabric of her dress. One hand rested against her swollen belly, while the other lay open on the marble.

“Camilla?”” Andre dropped to his knees.

“Baby, can you hear me?””

Nothing.

He touched her cheek. It was warm, but she didn’t respond.

“Camilla, open your eyes. Come on, sweetheart.””

Zoe Mitchell scrambled across the floor in her coral-orange dress, her curly pigtails bouncing as she knelt beside her mother.

“Mommy?”” she cried.

Andre reached for his phone with shaking fingers.

“Daddy, Mommy won't wake up!””

“I know, sweetheart. I know.”” He forced his voice to remain steady.

“Stay right here with me.””

Zoe wrapped both hands around Camilla’s fingers.

“Mommy, I was good today,” she sobbed.

“I promise I was good. Please get up.””

Andre dialed emergency services.

When the dispatcher answered, he could barely get the words out.

“My pregnant wife is unconscious. Possible poisoning. She’s six months pregnant, and she won’t wake up.””

“Sir, I need you to remain calm,” the dispatcher replied.

“Is she breathing?””

“Yes. I think so. Yes, she’s breathing.””

“Do not give her anything to eat or drink. Do not try to make her vomit. Follow my instructions, and tell me if her breathing changes.””

Andre placed his phone on speaker.

“Please hurry,” he said, his voice breaking.

“Please. There’s a baby. Our baby.””

Across the foyer, Valeria took one small step toward the double doors.

Andre noticed.

“Don’t move.””

She froze.

“Andre, you’re scaring me.””

“Then explain why you’re standing over my unconscious wife with a vial on the floor.””

“I didn’t touch her!””

“Then why are you trying to leave?””

Valeria swallowed hard. Her fingers tightened around the strap of her handbag.

“I need to call someone.””

“Call them right here.””

She glanced toward the elevator.

Andre had known Valeria for nearly four years. She had been his business partner before she became his wife’s closest friend—or at least, that was what Camilla had believed.

Valeria had attended their baby shower. She had helped Zoe choose a birthday dress. She had sat at their kitchen table and laughed with Camilla over coffee.

She had even cried when Camilla announced the pregnancy.

Now she stood beside a glass vial while Camilla lay motionless on the floor.

“Daddy,” Zoe whispered.

Andre turned toward her.

“Why is Auntie Valeria looking like that?””

He had no answer.

The dispatcher instructed him to keep Camilla as safe and comfortable as possible while help was on the way. Andre stayed beside his wife, watching her breathing and answering questions through the phone.

Valeria began backing toward the doorway again.

“Ma’am, please stay where you are,” the dispatcher’s voice sounded from the phone.

“Emergency responders are on their way.””

Valeria’s eyes darted toward Andre.

“You have to believe me,” she said.

“Whatever you think happened, I can explain.””

“Then explain.””

“I can’t.””

The answer landed harder than any confession could have.

Andre stared at her.

“You can’t?””

Valeria pressed her lips together.