Dana took the baby and carefully carried her back to the hospital room.


    In the room, Helen and a maternity nurse were already there, but Dana wouldn''t dream of entrusting the newborn to two strangers.


    Incidents of babies being stolen or switched were rare, but not unheard of.


    Yvonne herself had been secretly switched at birth and had suffered for over a decade.


    Their Thompson family princess was born to be cherished. She couldn''t endure even a hint of hardship.


    Dana stayed in the room watching over the baby, while Bet, Frank, and Emma continued to wait outside the delivery room.


    They waited for nearly another hour before the delivery room door opened again.


    Mrs. Powell walked out and said to Bet and the others with a deeply apologetic expression, "I''m so sorry. The patient suffered an amniotic fluid embolism. We did everything we could, but we were unable to save her. She has passed away."


    "What did you say?" Emma asked in disbelief.


    Frank was also stunned. The thermos Bet was holding slipped from his hands and ttered onto the floor. The soup, meant for Yvonne after she gave birth, sttered everywhere.


    Without a word, Bet pushed past Mrs. Powell and rushed into the delivery room.


    The room had been scrubbed clean and the windows thrown open, but the sharp, metallic tang of blood still clung to the air.


    Yvonne was still lying on the delivery bed, but a white sheet was draped over her, covering her face.


    "Yvonne." Bet walked to the bedside and instinctively grabbed her hand. He squeezed it tightly, his fingertips searching for her pulse.


    Just as he found her pulse point, Yvonne''s fingers twitched, secretly scratching his palm.


    Bet froze.


    He immediately tightened his grip on her hand to prevent the nurse beside them from noticing.


    Bet was good at many things, but acting wasn''t one of them.


    His eyes reddened, but no tears came. He dropped to his knees, lowered his head, and pressed his forehead into Yvonne''s palm.


    "Mr. Thompson, I''m so sorry for your loss. Please ept my condolences," Mrs. Powell said cautiously as she entered.


    Frank and Emma followed her in.


    They knew nothing of the n. Frank walked over, his hand trembling as he lifted a corner of the white sheet, revealing Yvonne''s ashen, ghostly features.


    "Yvonne!" Emma cried out at the sight of her.


    Though she hadn''t been fond of Yvonne at first, since she had married Bet, she was family. Moreover, Yvonne had died giving birth to Bet''s child.


    Emma recalled her own near-death experience when she gave birth to Bet, and she felt a deep empathy, sobbing uncontrobly.


    "Yvonne, Yvonne, you poor child, you were so young. How could you just leave? What will Bet and your newborn baby do now?"


    "My daughter-inw''s prenatal checkups were always fine, and it was a natural birth. How could there be an ident?" Frank refused to ept this, his expression a mix of pain and fury.


    "Mr. Thompson, your daughter-inw''s death was caused by an amniotic fluid embolism. The mortality rate for this kind of suddenplication is very high, and she afso had a rare blood type. We simply didn''t have time to save her..." Mrs. Powell exined.


    The death of the previous patient had given Mrs. Powell the perfect cover story. A


    rare blood type and an amniotic fluid embolism-the chances of survival were indeed slim.


    "I don''t care about your medical


    jargon, but the authorities will."


    Frank''s face was cold as he took out his phone and started dialing. "No one is to touch my daughter-in4aw''s body I''m calling the police and the best medical examiner m the country. If you''re responsible for this, I will make sure you never practice medicine again-and that you spend the rest of your life rotting in a cell."