Lyra froze in the doorway, her mind struggling to process the scene before her. Orla lay sprawled on the floor, blood pooling beneath her elegant dress. Her face was contorted in pain, hands clutching her stomach as she writhed dramatically. Jasper knelt beside her, his expression a mixture of shock and fury.
"She pushed me!" Orla shrieked, tears streaming down her perfectly made-up face. "Lyra pushed me! She killed my baby!"
Uncle Moreau rushed to Orla's side while Percival remained motionless, his calculating gaze sweeping from Orla to Lyra. The doctor immediately called for assistance, his voice sharp with urgency.
"Get a stretcher in here now! We have a possible miscarriage!"
Two nurses burst into the already crowded room, pushing a gurney. The medical team worked quickly, lifting Orla onto the stretcher as she continued to sob uncontrollably.
"My baby," she wailed, reaching for Jasper's hand. "Our baby is gone because of her!"
