The machine beeped steadily, but the sound was weak—too weak to give comfort.
Vivian lay motionless on the hospital bed, her body pale and fragile under the harsh white lights. Her chest rose slowly, unevenly, as if each breath had to fight its way out. Tubes ran into her arms, machines surrounded her, and yet everything about her looked… uncertain.
Beside her, the fetal monitor flickered.
A faint rhythm.
Unstable.
Fragile.
A nurse adjusted the drip with careful precision. Her movements were calm, practiced—almost too perfect. Her eyes moved quickly across the machines, confirming numbers, checking levels.
Everything appeared normal.
But something about her presence—
Didn't belong.
Outside the room, two armed guards stood like statues. Alert. Focused. Unmoving.
No one was getting in.
At least, that was what they believed.
