Hannah turned her head slightly.
“Denise,” she said.
The nurse moved close. “I’m here, honey.”
“My phone.”
Caleb stiffened.
Denise hesitated.
Caleb reached for Hannah’s purse on the chair. “She doesn’t need her phone right now.”
Hannah’s eyes cut to him.
The hallway went still.
Even with blood loss, even with pain tightening her face, even with two unborn babies fighting inside her, she looked at him the way a judge looks at a man who has just lied under oath.
“Give me my phone,” she said.
Caleb smiled thinly. “You’re not thinking clearly.”
“I am thinking very clearly.”
“Hannah—”
“I said give me my phone.”
Something in her tone made Denise move before Caleb could stop her.
She pulled the phone from the side pocket of Hannah’s purse and placed it in Hannah’s hand.
Caleb’s face changed for half a second.
Not anger.
Not fear.
Calculation.
Hannah saw it.
She had been seeing it for months.
In the way Caleb lowered his voice whenever she entered the room.
In the way he started taking calls in the garage.
In the way their joint account suddenly required “dual confirmation” for transfers, except his withdrawals always seemed to work.
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