I was eight months pregnant, standing under pastel balloons, when my friends cheered, “For you—and the baby.” Someone whispered, “We raised $50,000 for your medical bills.” I was crying, laughing… until my mom’s eyes locked on the donation box. “Move,” she snapped, grabbing for it. “Mom, no—this isn’t yours!” Her smile vanished. She reached behind the table, yanked out a heavy iron rod from the decorations, and hissed, “You don’t deserve this.” Then—CRACK. The blow slammed into my belly. A hot, terrifying rush… my water broke instantly.

The jury deliberated for less than two hours.

When they returned to the courtroom, the atmosphere was dead silent. The foreperson, a stern woman in her late fifties, stood up with the verdict forms in hand.

"In the matter of State v. Eleanor Price," the judge announced, "on Count 1: Attempted Murder in the Second Degree... how do you find?"

"Guilty," the foreperson read firmly.

A low murmur swept through the gallery. Eleanor flinched, her hands trembling on the table.

"On Count 2: Aggravated Assault with a Deadly Weapon... Guilty." "On Count 3: Grand Larceny in the First Degree... Guilty." "On Count 4: Wire Fraud and Scheme to Defraud... Guilty." "On Count 5: Aggravated Identity Theft... Guilty."

Guilty on all counts.

The judge ordered Eleanor to stand. "Mrs. Price, your actions represent a chilling, deliberate betrayal of the most sacred trust that exists between a parent and a child. You prioritized greed over human life, violently endangering your own daughter and infant grandson."

He slammed his gavel down. "I sentence you to twenty-five years in state prison without the possibility of parole for attempted murder, to run consecutively with fifteen years for financial fraud. Remand the defendant into immediate custody."

As the bailiffs clamped handcuffs around Eleanor’s wrists, she turned her head toward me, looking frantic, terrified, and suddenly very old.