He Gave My Daughter to His Ex, So I Destroyed His Perfect Life Chapter 03

He Gave My Daughter to His Ex, So I Destroyed His Perfect Life Chapter 03

At 4:47 in the morning, the heart monitor suddenly started screaming.

A wave of warmth spread beneath me.

The nurse pulled back the blanket, and her face changed instantly.

“The bleeding is abnormal!”

Dr. Lane and the obstetrician rushed into the room at almost the same time.

One person pressed down on my abdomen. Another monitored my blood pressure. Someone else shouted for blood to be prepared immediately.

My vision blurred from the pain, but I held onto my daughter’s tiny blanket with all my strength.

“My baby stays with me.”

The obstetrician was sweating heavily, his voice urgent.

“Ms. Whitmore, you’re at risk of postpartum hemorrhage. We need to act immediately. If we delay any longer, you could go into shock.”

I placed my daughter into my mother’s arms.

“Mom, don’t leave her.”

My mother held her tightly.

“I’ll stay right here with her.”

I was rushed into the treatment room.

The nurse took my phone away, saying the area was sterile and personal devices weren’t allowed inside.

Before the doors closed, I saw Ethan standing at the end of the hallway.

He didn’t rush toward me.

He only lowered his head and glanced at his watch.

That single glance sent a chill through my entire body.

When the anesthesia entered my vein, I fought desperately to stay awake.

But my body stopped obeying me.

The last thing I heard was the nurse’s urgent voice outside the room.

“Where is Ms. Whitmore’s family member? We need a family signature before we can proceed with the emergency blood transfusion.”

When I woke up again, the sky outside had already turned gray.

Ethan was sitting beside my bed, his eyes red.

He held my hand, his voice hoarse.

“Clara, I’m sorry.”

My first instinct was to look for my daughter.

The bassinet beside me was empty.

My throat tightened.

“Where is my daughter?”

He closed his eyes.

“She suddenly developed respiratory distress. The doctors performed resuscitation for forty minutes…”

A buzzing filled my ears.

Behind him, a nurse pushed over a small transparent bassinet.

Inside was a baby girl wrapped in a blanket.

Her skin was pale and bluish.

Her body was cold.

Ethan whispered,

“She didn’t survive.”

I forced myself upright, and the incision in my abdomen felt like it was being ripped open.

My mother stood beside me, her face completely pale.

Her arms were empty.

Her lips trembled.

“I was only gone for seven minutes. They said you were bleeding heavily and needed someone to sign the consent forms. I couldn’t take the baby to the blood bank, and the nurse said she would stay with her…”

She couldn’t finish.

I reached out and touched the baby’s skin behind her ear.

I felt the cold stillness of death lingering there.

But there was no fragrance.

I slowly lifted my head.

“This isn’t my daughter.”

Ethan wrapped his arms around me.

“Clara, I know you can’t accept this.”

I pushed him away.

“I said this isn’t my daughter.”

Dr. Lane walked in holding the medical records.

“Ms. Whitmore, the records are very clear. The baby’s vital signs were normal at birth, but she suddenly developed respiratory distress during the night. We immediately began resuscitation. Mr. Caldwell was present the entire time and signed all the necessary documents.”

I looked at her.

“Then seal the resuscitation room. Preserve every record, including the transfer records and the remains.”

She frowned.

“Your emotions are unstable right now. You’re not in a condition to make decisions.”

I didn’t waste another word arguing with them.

My mother handed me my phone.

I called the police.

“Someone at St. Claire Medical Center switched my baby.”

The room went silent.

Ethan’s expression changed.

“Clara, don’t turn this into something bigger than it is.”

I stared at him.

“The moment you touched my daughter, it was already bigger than you wanted it to be.”

I asked the driver to bring Maple to the emergency stairwell outside the hospital unit.

My mother took the preserved gauze sample and went downstairs with him.

Ten minutes later, she sent me a video.

Maple sniffed the blanket of the deceased infant, then suddenly backed away.

A restless whine escaped from his throat.

Then he lowered his head, frantically sniffed the floor, and pulled against the leash toward the elevator.

He knew too.

My daughter wasn’t here.

But outside the hospital room, members of the Caldwell family had already arrived.

Ethan’s mother, Victoria Caldwell, stood at the door, exhaustion and frustration written across her face.

“Losing a child is devastating for everyone. You just gave birth. Don’t put yourself through more pain by dragging the police and the hospital into this.”

The head nurse also spoke softly.

“Many mothers experience denial after something this painful. It’s a normal psychological defense mechanism.”

Dr. Lane sighed.

“Ms. Whitmore, what you need right now is rest, not an investigation.”

Ethan looked at me with red eyes.

“Clara, accept reality.”

Everyone looked at me with pity and suspicion.

As if I were truly a mother who had lost her mind.

My daughter was alive.

I knew it.

Yet everyone had already decided she was gone.

I lifted my head and said only one thing.

“Bring my dog upstairs. He can find my daughter.”