Emma felt as if her soul had left her body, slipping into the role of that mother across the room. Jealousy, thick and bitter, mixed with fury and surged through her chest once more.

It was all Ivy’s fault.

If not for Ivy, she and Micah would have been married long ago. By now, their baby would be on the way.

She could have been the one cradling a sweet, clever child, lost in the warmth and tenderness of motherhood.

Instead, here she was—branded a criminal, twice miscarried, living with HIV, her womb gone forever.

Ivy. Ivy.

Emma rolled the name over in her mind, obsessively, searching for new ways to make her pay.

Her gaze settled again on the little girl nearby.

Just then, the girl’s father stepped out with their lunch, and the child began to cry for her mother, arms outstretched, sobbing, “Mommy, hold me! Mommy, please!”

But the mother, exhausted and frail, already had a newborn in her arms. There was no way she could hold both children at once.

A strange smile flickered across Emma’s face. She threw back the covers and slid out of bed.

Her steps were shaky—her body still ached—but the force of her hate pulled her forward.

She walked softly to the mother and daughter, bending down to the child with outstretched arms and a gentle voice. “Sweetheart, would you like Auntie to hold you for a while?”

The woman’s face tightened with alarm. “No, thank you. My husband will be back in a minute.”

But Emma only smiled, undeterred. She scooped the little girl into her arms anyway. “Let’s play together, okay?”

The mother sensed something was very wrong. “Give her back to me! Put her down! Now!”

Emma ignored her, clutching the child and striding away.

The mother tried to grab her, but with the baby in her arms, she couldn’t manage. She screamed at the top of her lungs, “Help! Someone help! She’s taking my child!” Emma’s body was still weak, but adrenaline lent her speed. She carried the little girl quickly down the corridor.

The room was right next to the stairwell. Emma turned the corner and began to climb, heading up.

It was lunchtime; most of the nurses and doctors were either busy or eating. By the time they heard the commotion and rushed out, Emma and the child were already gone.

Word spread quickly: the woman who’d lost her womb—Emma—had snatched the little girl from the next bed and disappeared.

Someone called out, “I think she went upstairs! Maybe she lost her mind after all she’s been through—why else would she grab someone’s child?”

No one stopped to speculate. The medical staff raced for the stairs.

They found Emma on the rooftop, sitting with the little girl. She had tied the hem of the child’s dress to her own hospital gown, knotting it tightly, making sure they couldn’t be separated.

When she saw the staff, Emma shouted, “Don’t come any closer! Or I’ll jump, and she’s coming with me!”

Everyone froze.

“Call the police! Now!” a doctor shouted, dialing as he spoke.

Emma didn’t seem afraid; she even laughed. “Go ahead, call them. I don’t care… in fact, tell them to bring Ivy here. If Ivy doesn’t show up, this child isn’t leaving this roof alive.”

The staff didn’t understand what she meant, but they frantically urged the police to hurry.

The little girl sobbed uncontrollably, her legs kicking out and striking Emma’s surgical wounds, making Emma break out in a cold sweat. She lost her patience and screamed, “I want Ivy! Bring Ivy here, now! Do you hear me? Jamison’s wife! You all know Jamison!”

In Neo Haven’s medical community, Jamison Ludwig was a household name.

A nurse suddenly understood and shouted, “She wants Professor Ludwig’s wife! Find Professor Ludwig!”

“How are we supposed to get his number?”

“Call the chief! Hurry!”

Meanwhile, the child’s father arrived, breathless and panicked.

He saw his daughter in the clutches of a crazed woman at the edge of the roof. His legs nearly gave out.

“Daddy! Daddy!” the little girl screamed, reaching for him, her whole body shaking.

“You let my daughter go! I’ll do anything you want, just let her go!” he shouted, his voice raw with terror. He wanted to rush forward, but one wrong move could push Emma over the edge.

“If you want your daughter back, get Ivy! Only Ivy! If she doesn’t come, I’ll jump!” Emma’s voice was cracked and wild. “Hurry up! Or we both go over!”

Police and firefighters soon arrived.

After assessing the situation—and seeing Emma’s fragile state, the way she had cunningly tied herself to the child—the authorities agreed: the only option was to give in to Emma’s demand.

“Who’s Ivy? Does anyone know Ivy? Find her, now.”

A nurse waved her phone, shouting, “I got Professor Ludwig on the line! Officer, Ivy is Dr. Ludwig’s wife!”

The lead officer grabbed the phone. “Hello? Do you know Emma?”

On the other end, Jamison—fresh from the operating room, not even having time for lunch—was bewildered.

“Yes, I know her. What’s happened?”

“This is the police. Emma has taken a little girl hostage on the hospital roof. She’s demanding to see Ivy—your wife—or she’ll jump. We need your cooperation.”