The Diagnosis of Greed
The Seraphim Institute did not look like a hospital. It looked like a five-star hotel where people went to die in high-thread-count sheets. The lobby featured a waterfall, a grand piano, and a receptionist who looked like a runway model.
I sat on a velvet sofa, my hands resting protectively on my twenty-week bump.
Next to me sat Victoria, my mother-in-law. She was wearing a Chanel suit and a look of practiced concern.
“It’s for the best, Elena,” she murmured, patting my knee with a hand that felt like a cold claw. “Dr. Sterling is the best in the country. If there is something wrong with the… fetus… he will find it. We need to be realistic. My son cannot be burdened with a damaged child.”
Damaged. That was her favorite word. She used it to describe my car, my background, and now, my unborn son.
My husband, Daniel, was in London on business. Victoria had insisted on taking me to this appointment. “A special check-up,” she had called it. “To ensure the Sterling bloodline is pure.”
I knew Daniel was weak. He let his mother run his life. But I never thought he would let her run mine.
“Mrs. Vance?” A nurse called out. “Dr. Sterling is ready for you.”
I stood up. I felt the weight of the recorder in my pocket. It was a small, sleek device, disguised as a fountain pen. I had turned it on five minutes ago.
I walked into the examination room. It was dim, scented with lavender.
Dr. Marcus Sterling stood by the ultrasound machine. He was a tall man with silver hair and a smile that looked like it had been bought from a catalog. He was Victoria’s personal physician. He was also, I suspected, her hired gun.
“Elena,” Dr. Sterling said, his voice smooth as oil. “Please, lie down. Let’s take a look at the little one.”
I lay back. The gel was warm. The wand moved over my stomach.
On the screen, the grainy image of my son appeared. I saw his spine. I saw the flutter of his heart. To me, he looked perfect.
But Dr. Sterling wasn’t smiling. He was frowning. He clicked his tongue. He sighed—a long, heavy, theatrical sigh.
“Oh dear,” he whispered.
Victoria leaned forward, her eyes gleaming with anticipation. “What is it, Marcus? Tell us.”
Chapter 1: The Lie
Dr. Sterling turned off the monitor. He took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He looked at me with an expression of grave, professional sorrow.
“Elena,” he said softly. “I am so sorry. It’s exactly as I feared from the blood work.”
“What?” I asked, my voice trembling. I had to play the part. “What’s wrong?”
“The baby has severe Anencephaly combined with a complex cardiac defect,” Sterling lied. “His brain isn’t developing. His heart is failing. Even if you carry him to term—which is dangerous for you—he will not survive more than a few minutes after birth. It would be… cruel to let him continue.”
I covered my mouth. “No…”
“It is a tragedy,” Victoria said, standing up and placing a hand on the doctor’s shoulder. “But we must be practical. We cannot bring a monster into the world.”
“Victoria!” I gasped.
“I’m speaking the truth,” she snapped. “Think of Daniel. Think of the shame. A deformed child?”
She turned to the doctor.
“Marcus, what are the options?”
“Given the severity,” Dr. Sterling said, “and the risk to the mother… I recommend an immediate termination. We can do it here, today. In the surgical suite. It will be quick. We can tell Daniel it was a miscarriage. It will save everyone a lot of pain.”
“Today?” I whispered.
“It’s the safest way,” Sterling insisted. “I have an opening in thirty minutes. I’ve already prepped the paperwork. You just need to sign.”
He slid a clipboard toward me. Consent for Emergency Termination.
Victoria pulled a pen from her purse—a Montblanc. She tried to hand it to me.
“Sign it, Elena,” she ordered. “Do it for the family. Do it for Daniel. We can try again. With better… genetic screening next time.”
I looked at the clipboard. I looked at the screen where my healthy baby boy was hiding.
I looked at Victoria.
“You paid him, didn’t you?” I asked.
The room went silent.
“Excuse me?” Dr. Sterling scoffed. “Elena, you are hysterical. Hormones—”
“I saw the transfer,” I lied. Well, partially. I had seen a withdrawal from the family trust, but I didn’t know where it went. Now I did. “Fifty thousand dollars. Yesterday.”
Victoria’s eyes narrowed. “You are delirious. Sign the paper.”
“No,” I said.
Chapter 2: The Second Opinion
I sat up. I wiped the gel off my stomach with a paper towel.
“I’m not signing anything,” I said. “And I’m not terminating my pregnancy.”
“You are endangering your life!” Dr. Sterling raised his voice. “This baby is non-viable! If you walk out of here, you are signing his death warrant and yours!”
“Is that your official medical diagnosis?” I asked, standing up.
“Yes!” Sterling shouted. “I am the Chief of Obstetrics! My word is law in this city!”
“That’s funny,” I said, reaching into my bag. “Because Dr. Hemmings doesn’t agree with you.”
I pulled out a file. A thick, blue medical folder.
Sterling froze. “Who?”
“Dr. Elizabeth Hemmings,” I said. “Head of Fetal Medicine at Johns Hopkins. And Dr. Gupta at Mount Sinai. And Dr. Liu at The Mayo Clinic.”
I threw the folder onto the desk. It landed with a heavy thud.
“I visited them over the last three days,” I said. “I flew to Baltimore. I flew to New York. I got high-resolution 4D ultrasounds. I got fetal MRIs. I got genetic karyotyping.”
I opened the folder. I pointed to the summary page in bold letters.
FETUS IS HEALTHY. NORMAL DEVELOPMENT. NO CARDIAC OR NEURAL DEFECTS DETECTED.
“They all said the same thing,” I told them. “My son is perfect. He is in the 90th percentile for growth. His heart is strong. His brain is forming beautifully.”
Victoria’s face went pale. She looked at Sterling. “Marcus? You said…”
“She… she must have gone to quacks!” Sterling stammered, sweat beading on his forehead. “Those reports could be faked!”
“Dr. Hemmings is the woman who wrote the textbook you have on your shelf,” I pointed to the book behind him. “Are you calling her a quack?”
I took a step closer to Sterling.
“You didn’t see a defect,” I said. “You saw a payout. You saw a mother-in-law who hates me and wants me out of the picture. You thought you could scare me into killing my own child so she could arrange a ‘better’ marriage for her son.”
“That is slander!” Victoria screeched. “I only want what is best for Daniel!”
“You want control,” I said.
I reached into my pocket. I pulled out the pen.
“And you, Dr. Sterling,” I said, holding the pen up. “You just committed medical malpractice, fraud, and conspiracy to commit harm.”
“What is that?” Sterling whispered, staring at the pen.
“It’s a recorder,” I smiled. “It’s been running since I walked into the waiting room. I have you on tape diagnosing a non-existent fatal condition. I have you pressuring me into an immediate abortion. I have you lying about the viability of a healthy fetus.”
Sterling collapsed into his chair. He looked like he was going to vomit.
Chapter 3: The License
“Give me that pen,” Victoria hissed, lunging at me.
I stepped back. “Don’t touch me, Victoria. If you touch me, I add assault to the list.”
“Elena, be reasonable,” Victoria begged, changing tactics instantly. “We can work this out. I… I was just worried! I was misinformed! Marcus told me…”
“Don’t throw me under the bus, Victoria!” Sterling shouted. “You came to me! You said you wanted the ‘problem’ removed! You offered me the partnership in the new clinic!”
“Shut up!” Victoria screamed.
“I have that on tape too,” I noted. “Thanks, Marcus.”
I picked up my bag.
“Here is what is going to happen,” I said.
“Dr. Sterling, you are going to shred that consent form. You are going to print out my actual medical records from today—the ones the machine automatically saved before you deleted them. And then, you are going to surrender your medical license.”
“My license?” Sterling whimpered. “I have a family.”
“So do I,” I said, touching my belly. “And you tried to kill him.”
I turned to Victoria.
“And you.”
Victoria stood tall, trying to regain her composure. “You can’t threaten me. I am a Vance. I have lawyers.”
“I’m sure you do,” I said. “But do you have Daniel?”
Victoria blinked. “What?”
“I sent the audio file,” I said. “To the cloud. And to Daniel’s email. He’s listening to it right now.”
As if on cue, Victoria’s phone rang.
It was Daniel.
She looked at the screen. Her hands shook. She didn’t answer.
“He knows,” I said. “He knows you tried to murder his son.”
Chapter 4: The Exit
I walked to the door.
“Elena!” Victoria cried out. “Please! Think of the scandal! We can pay you. Whatever you want.”
“I don’t want your money, Victoria,” I said. “I have my own. I built my own business before I met Daniel, remember? The business you called a ‘hobby’?”
I opened the door.
“I’m leaving,” I said. “I’m going to a real doctor. And then I’m going to the police.”
“Police?” Sterling gasped.
“Attempted coerced medical procedure,” I listed. “Fraud. It’s a crime, Doctor. A felony.”
I walked out into the lobby. The waterfall was still trickling. The piano was still playing. But the luxury felt like a prison now.
I walked out the front doors into the bright sunlight.
My phone buzzed. It was Daniel.
Daniel: I’m coming home. I’m so sorry. I’m changing the locks. She will never come near us again.
I smiled.
I hailed a taxi.
“Where to, Ma’am?” the driver asked.
” The Police Station,” I said. “And then… the baby store. I need to buy a crib.”
Chapter 5: The Aftermath
The fallout was swift and brutal.
Dr. Sterling lost his license within a week. The Medical Board doesn’t take kindly to doctors fabricating diagnoses to facilitate illegal abortions for profit. He is currently facing criminal charges.
Victoria was ousted from the family trust. Daniel, for the first time in his life, stood up. He played the recording for the Board of Directors of the family company. They removed her as Chairwoman. She moved to a small condo in Florida, and we have a restraining order that keeps her 500 feet away from our son at all times.
Six months later, I gave birth.
It was a boy. We named him Leo.
He was born at Mount Sinai, under the care of Dr. Gupta.
He came out screaming. He had ten fingers, ten toes, and a heart that beat with the rhythm of a survivor.
He was perfect.
As I held him in the recovery room, Daniel kissed my forehead.
“He’s beautiful,” Daniel whispered, tears in his eyes.
“He is,” I said.
I looked at my son. I thought about the man who wanted to stop his heart for a check. I thought about the woman who wanted him gone because he was inconvenient.
I held him tighter.
“You fought for him,” Daniel said. “You saved him.”
“I just did my research,” I smiled.
I looked at the nightstand. The recording pen was still there, in my bag. I would keep it. Not as a weapon, but as a reminder.
A reminder that a mother’s instinct is the most accurate diagnostic tool in the world. And that sometimes, the scariest monsters don’t hide under the bed—they wear white coats and expensive suits.
