“Elena?” Victoria’s sharp, authoritative voice answered. There was no hesitation, no warmth—just immediate, focused attention.

“Mom…” I gasped, the word tearing from my throat, my voice a fragile, dying, unrecognizable thread.

“Elena, what is wrong? Where are you?” The authority in her voice spiked instantly into high alert.

“Mom… Mark stole the surgery money,” I sobbed, struggling to draw a breath as another violent contraction hit. “He wired it to Chloe. He left. The baby is coming right now. I’m bleeding, Mom. I’m so scared.”

The silence on the other end of the line lasted a microsecond.

It was the silence of a nuclear reactor reaching critical mass.