The underground parking garage was dim and smelled of exhaust and damp concrete. Florence leaned against the hood of a silver sedan, her sunglasses shielding her eyes even in the dark.
She checked her watch. Three minutes.
Footsteps echoed against the concrete. Quick, nervous steps.
Nurse Joy rounded the pillar, her keys in her hand. When she saw Florence, she froze. The keys clattered to the floor.
Florence didn't move to pick them up. She just watched.
"Mrs. Livingston," Joy stammered. "I... I was just leaving."
Florence took off her sunglasses. "Dr. Saunders told me everything."
Joy's face crumpled. "I didn't mean to! It was a busy day, the labels looked so similar..."
"Save it," Florence cut her off. Her voice lacked any sympathy. Sympathy was a luxury she could no longer afford. "Tears won't keep you out of prison, Joy. But I can."
Joy stared at her, her chest heaving. "What do you want?"
"I want you to doctor the prenatal records," Florence said. "Every scan, every blood test. You make sure the dates line up with Garnett's timeline. You make sure there are no discrepancies that point to... external factors."
"That's illegal," Joy whispered.
Florence pulled out her phone. She swiped to a photo of a drafted lawsuit. "This is a draft. My lawyers are very fast. Malpractice. Fraud. Emotional distress. You'll lose your license. You'll lose your freedom."
Joy looked at the screen, then back at Florence. The fight went out of her. She nodded.
"Good girl," Florence said. She kicked the keys toward Joy's feet.
Her phone buzzed in her hand. The screen lit up with a name: Garnett.
Florence took a deep breath. She closed her eyes for a second, centering herself. She visualized the "Incubator" comment. She let the anger fuel her performance.
She answered.
"Hey, darling," she said. Her voice was sweet, dripping with a naive warmth she no longer felt.
"Florence," Garnett's voice came through the speakers. "Where are you? I was waiting in the car, but the driver said you hadn't come down."
Liar. He was upstairs with Alison.
"Oh, I'm so sorry," Florence said lightly. "I felt a bit faint after the news. I took a cab to the park to get some fresh air. I wanted to surprise you later."
"Is the baby okay?" Garnett asked quickly. Not are you okay. Is the baby okay.
"Perfect," Florence said. "The doctor said the implantation is solid. Our little... heir... is doing just fine."
She heard Garnett let out a breath. "That's great news. Grandma Hattie will be thrilled."
"Where are you?" Florence asked, keeping her tone casual. "I thought I saw you near the VIP Lounge earlier."
There was a pause. A beat of silence where Garnett calculated his lie.
"I was just finishing up a conference call," he said smoothly. "I'm heading to the office now. Business never stops, you know."
"Of course," Florence said, gripping the phone so hard her fingers ached. "You work so hard for us."
"I do," Garnett said. "I'll see you at home."
The line went dead.
Florence lowered the phone. She looked at her reflection in the car window. Her face was pale, but her eyes were burning.
The Florence who wanted love was dead. The woman looking back at her was a mother. And she was going to burn the Livingston legacy to the ground to keep her child safe.
She got into her car. She didn't drive home. She drove toward the river, needing to breathe air that didn't smell of lies.
