At my final prenatal appointment, the doctor looked at the ultrasound, then whispered, “Ma’am… your baby has stopped growing.” My whole body trembled as he asked, “Are you taking anything unusual?” I told him I’d only taken the prenatal vitamins someone gave me and the moment I revealed who that person was, everything in the room changed.

“No… no, this can’t be,” I breathed.

The guard rushed inside.

“Are you certain it was here? Does anyone else have access?”

“Only me… and Clara. She visited me a few times when I wasn’t feeling well.”

As soon as I said it, regret punched me in the chest. If Clara came back… what was she trying to erase?

Or… what was she planning next?

After the guard checked the apartment, we drove back to the hospital. A police officer was waiting. They questioned me, documented everything, studied Clara’s message. A picture began forming—deliberate tampering, public health violations, and possibly something far more personal.

But amid all the terror, one piece of hope emerged:

Although the baby’s growth had stalled, Dr. Serrano said there was still time to reverse the effects—if we acted immediately.

“All is not lost,” she assured me. “We’re going to fight for your child.”

Still, unease lingered.

Because Clara was still out there.

And I didn’t know what she wanted.

That night, while I was under observation, my phone buzzed again.

Not Clara this time.

A stranger.

Just three words:

“It’s too late.”

Chills rippled through me.

But beneath the fear, something fierce awakened—raw determination. No matter who was behind this, no matter what they intended…

I would fight for my baby.

And now I need your opinion:

What should I do? Confront Clara? Let the police take over? Or is there something more hidden that I’m missing?
If you were in my place… what would you do next?