All men are not born equal. Some are born into squalor, some into wealth, and some are born to inherit the earth, while others are born to be disinherited by God.

Eliyah Morewood walked through the busy main street, which remained a hive of activity. The cobblestone streets of the city buzzed with the ceaseless clamour of daily life. Horse-drawn carriages clattered by, their drivers shouting above the din, while vendors hawked their wares from cluttered stalls. The air was thick with the mingling scents of fresh bread, coal smoke, and the distinct, earthy smell of the nearby factories. Children darted between the legs of pedestrians, their laughter a sharp contrast to the grumbles of workers hurrying to their next shift.

Eliyah lived close enough to the clinic to enjoy the occasional stroll, taking in the bustling atmosphere. Today, however, the weather was averse to her. The clouds hung low and oppressive, dark, and threatening. Soon enough, the sky opened up, unleashing a torrent of hard, cold rain. Thunder rumbled ominously in the distance, growing ever closer.

Eliyah cursed under her breath and pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders and hair, breaking into a run. She dashed through the slick streets, her shoes splashing through puddles, until she reached her destination: a small clinic that stood out starkly against the drab buildings surrounding it.

The clinic was a modest structure, its brick walls clean and well-maintained despite the grime that seemed to cling to everything else in the city. A sign above the door read "Baskerville Women's Clinic," named after its benefactor, a wealthy noble who enjoyed a life of luxury far removed from the harsh realities faced by the working class. It was one of the only clinics in the area that employed female Physicians, but its services were exclusively for women, a fact that drew both gratitude and resentment from the community.

Inside, the clinic was a sanctuary from the chaos outside. The walls were painted a soothing pale green, and the air was filled with the scent of antiseptic mingled with lavender. A few wooden benches lined the waiting area, where women of all ages sat with their children, waiting for their turn to see the Physician. Shelves stocked with medical supplies and jars of herbal remedies lined one wall, accompanied by paintings benefactors had sent in.

Eliyah shook off the rain and smiled warmly at the unfamiliar faces. As she moved towards the back, she greeted the head nurse, who was busy organizing patient records.

"Rough morning, Ilya?" the nurse asked, glancing up with a sympathetic smile and handing over a hot cup of tea.

"Just a bit," Ilya replied, her smile turning wry. "But nothing a hot cup of tea won't fix."

She hung up her dripping shawl before heading to her office. Despite having been working here for just over a month, she had already gotten used to the rhythm of the place. Taking out her large file full of patient data, she flipped through it, checking the patient timetable left on her desk. Many women sent calling cards before coming, which was encouraged to manage the flow of patients.

Her first patient today was Everlyn Taylor, a young girl of only sixteen. Her mother had sent an urgent calling card last night and had paid handsomely for her case to be expedited. Ilya sighed and sat down; new patients were exhausting, requiring so much paperwork. She wondered why the girl hadn’t gone to her family Physician since she seemed quite well-to-do.

Dropping the file, Ilya headed outside, walking behind the reception to the hidden waiting room. “Everlyn?” she called out.

A young girl, sitting next to an older woman, stood up. Everlyn wore a modest, high-necked dress in a muted shade of blue, with a neatly tied bonnet perched atop her wavy brown hair. Her eyes, a striking shade of green, were calm despite the situation. In her hand was a beautiful set of sandalwood prayer beads, which she casually sifted through one bead at a time. The older woman, presumably her mother or governess, was dressed in a similar fashion. Her dark green dress was accented with lace at the cuffs and collar, and she wore a small hat adorned with a feather. Her demeanour was quite anxious and concerned, a stark contrast to the younger girl.

"This way, please," Ilya said with a reassuring smile, leading them back to her office. The two women entered first, and Ilya closed the door behind them. She walked over to her seat, taking a quill pen in hand and preparing a pre-printed sheet of paper.

“Can I have your full name, please?” she asked.

“Everlyn Taylor,” the older woman answered immediately. Ilya noticed Everlyn frown and look down at her hands, obscuring her eyes from Ilya’s gaze.

“Date of birth?” Ilya continued, and the older woman answered again.

“And what is your relationship to the patient?”

“I am her mother.”

“She is my stepmother,” Everlyn spoke up this time, correcting the woman. Mrs. Taylor seemed a bit embarrassed by her stepdaughter's harsh words, but Ilya pretended not to notice.

“What brings you here, Lady Taylor?”

Everlyn remained quiet, and Ilya waited patiently for a moment before realizing the young lady had no intention of speaking. Ilya turned to Mrs. Taylor, the look of confusion in her eyes obvious. Mrs. Taylor sighed and began to explain.

“I have reason to believe that Everlyn is pregnant.”

“Oh, I see… How come?” Ilya spoke awkwardly. Despite dealing with pregnant women regularly, teen pregnancies weren’t something she was familiar with.

“Her… monthly course is late.”

Ilya scribbled down Mrs. Taylor's words on the piece of paper. “When was the last time she had her… monthly course?”

“About three months ago.”

Nodding, Ilya continued to take notes. “Any other symptoms?”

“Yes, she has been vomiting a lot these mornings. She originally tried to hide it from me, but how could I not notice? I have had three children!” Mrs. Taylor said, exasperated.

“I see. And Everlyn, this is quite a personal question, have you been… in union with a man?” Ilya asked cautiously.

“I asked her the same question; she insists she has not been!” Mrs. Taylor exclaimed. “At first, I thought she just did not understand what I meant, so I showed her my manuals, and she still insisted!”

“That’s strange.”

“Yes, it is!” Mrs. Taylor looked frustrated. It was obvious she had tried to get through to Everlyn, but nothing had worked. “I brought her here to check with the Physician. If she is indeed pregnant, the child must go. I heard you are very good at your job, so I brought her here.”

Ilya glanced again at Everlyn. She looked angry and was holding her belly protectively.

“Then I will examine her. Do you mind waiting in the private room, Mrs. Taylor?” she asked. Mrs. Taylor nodded, getting up and stepping out, leaving just the two of them alone. “Everlyn, you want to keep the child, right? If you do not want to get rid of it, you need to tell me.”

Everlyn finally glanced at her, her anger breaking down to sadness. “I want to have this baby,” she whispered. Ilya couldn’t help but sigh.

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“Who is the father, Everlyn?” Ilya asked, trying to soothe the girl's nerves.

Everlyn looked around as if assessing whether this was a safe environment. “Please tell me so I can help you,” Ilya emphasized.

The girl finally spoke, “an angel.”

Ilya tried not to react, Everlyn’s eyes were so pure and genuine it felt like she believed she had been impregnated by an angel.

‘It seems like today I have finally met a mad woman.’

Ilya forced a smile but said nothing, instead she led the girl to complete a full examination, but the results only left her more confused. She called Mrs Taylor back once Evelyn was dressed adequately and explained the results.

“I examined Everlyn thoroughly,” Ilya began, “and there is no evidence that she is pregnant. Her symptoms could be caused by a variety of other factors, such as hormonal imbalances, stress, or even gastrointestinal issues. From where I stand, it is very unlikely that she is pregnant.”

Mrs. Taylor looked greatly relieved. “Oh, thank heavens,” she said, visibly relaxing.

“However,” Ilya continued, “if you notice her belly growing or if her symptoms persist, please come back for further evaluation.”

Everlyn glared at you, insisting, “But I am pregnant. I know I am!”

Ilya maintained her professional stance. “Everlyn, I understand you feel strongly about this, but all the tests indicate otherwise. We’ll keep monitoring your condition closely.”

“Thank you so much! May God bless you!” She turned to Everlyn grabbing her arm. “Come on, let’s go home!” Everlyn hissed but was dragged out by her mother. Ilya sighed once they were gone and finished writing the consultation history on the piece of paper before slipping it in the file with her other patients. By the time she was done, her cup of tea was already lukewarm.

The clinic ended as usual in the mid-afternoon. Saying goodbye to the head nurse, Ilya began her walk home. The weather had not improved one bit in the hours she had spent attending to patients. Rain poured heavily, and the streets were slick with water. Ilya pulled her shawl tighter around her and quickened her pace, eager to escape the cold and wet.

As she approached her home, a large, terraced house with multiple rooms, Ilya sighed in relief. She unlocked the door and stepped inside, shaking off the rain. The warmth of the house enveloped her immediately, and she felt a wave of comfort wash over her.

“Good afternoon, Lady Ilya,” greeted her housekeeper, a young woman named Agnes. Agnes was in her early thirties, with a kind demeanour and a meticulous nature that kept the house spotless.

“Good afternoon, Agnes,” Ilya replied, removing her wet shawl, and hanging it on the stand. “Has lunch been prepared?”

“Yes, it’s ready for you in the dining room,” Agnes said with a smile.

Ilya made her way to the dining room, where a delicious meal awaited her. She sat down with a book she had been reading recently, hoping to enjoy a quiet lunch. As she took her first bite, she remembered the strange patient from that morning.

“Agnes,” she began, “I had an unusual case today. A young girl, Everlyn. Her mother believed she was pregnant, but all the examinations showed she was not.”

Agnes, ever the empathetic soul, shook her head sadly. “Poor girl, she must have had a hard life to end up in such confusion. It’s always heartbreaking to see young ones in distress.”

Ilya nodded reluctantly, not wanting to dwell too much on the girl’s troubles. “I suppose so,” she said, turning her attention back to her meal.

After finishing her lunch, Ilya had some time to herself. She moved to her study and began sorting through the letters that had arrived for her. There were several from the Morewood residence, which she recognized immediately but chose to stuff into a drawer, unwilling to open them. Another letter, simply signed "A," caught her eye, but she stuffed that one away as well.

She read through the rest of the letters, dealing with the mundane matters they contained. Eventually, the quiet and warmth of the room lulled her into a drowsy state, and she dozed off in her chair.

Her nap was short-lived. The ringing of the doorbell startled her awake. Groggy but curious, she rose from her seat and made her way to the door, wondering who could be visiting her at this hour.

Walking down the stairs, Ilya was met with a young gentleman standing at the front door, just below her. Upon seeing her, he introduced himself.

“I’m sorry to bother you. I am Detective Black. I’m here to talk to… Physician Morewood?”

Detective Black was in his late twenties and a strikingly handsome young man. He had long, blonde hair tied back in a neat braid, and his sharp, blue eyes exuded confidence and intelligence. His attire was polished yet practical, with a crisp white shirt, a black tie, and a well-fitted vest under his coat. He looked very much like the picture of composed determination.

Ilya noticed his name immediately. The Black family, known for their high-ranking positions in national security. A mischievous smile played on her lips as she decided to engage him in small talk.

“Detective Black, is it?” she said, her tone light and slightly flirtatious. “It’s not every day I get a visit from someone with such a handsome…name. What brings you here?”

He looked slightly amused but remained professional. “I’m in need of some assistance from a gynaecologist, and I was told that Physician Morewood is the best in the area.”

Ilya raised an eyebrow, her interest piqued. “Well, you’re in luck. Physician Morewood at your service. What kind of assistance are you looking for?”

He hesitated for a moment, as if carefully choosing his words. “It’s a delicate matter, I’m afraid. It involves a case that requires your specific expertise. Would you be willing to come with me? I can explain more on the way.”

Ilya's curiosity was now fully piqued. “Of course, Detective. Please wait here while I change into something more suitable for work.”

As she turned to head back up the stairs. “I won’t be long, I promise.”

Detective Black nodded, a small smile playing on his lips as he watched her go. Ilya quickly changed into her professional attire, her mind buzzing with possibilities about what could require her expertise outside the clinic.

Ilya quickly changed into a beautiful and elegant dress before heading out with Detective Black. The dress was a stunning piece, featuring delicate lace and intricate details. The bodice was fitted with black velvet, cinching her waist and highlighting her figure, while the sleeves and upper portion were made of fine, white lace, creating an exquisite contrast. The lace was adorned with frills that added a touch of sophistication and grace to her appearance.

As she descended the stairs, her dark, curly hair framed her face perfectly, cascading down her shoulders in soft waves. Her warm brown eyes glimmered with curiosity and a hint of excitement. The dress she wore accentuated her regal bearing, making her look both professional and approachable.

Agnes, busy with her tasks, couldn't help but notice Ilya's attire. She looked at her knowingly, a smile playing on her lips.

Detective Black, waiting by the door, stood up straighter as Ilya approached. He was momentarily taken aback by her appearance but quickly regained his composure.

“Shall we?” she asked, her tone now more business-like. Agnes brough a fine wool cloak and handed it to Detective Black who helped Ilya cover up.

Detective Black extended his arm slightly, gesturing for her to lead the way. “After you, Physician Morewood.”

As they stepped outside, Agnes watched from the window, shaking her head with a fond smile.

Ilya and Detective Black walked towards his carriage, the rain still drizzling lightly. As they climbed inside, Ilya took his gloved hand to help herself up.

The carriage ride was tense. Detective Black struggled to find where to look as he tried desperately to maintain his professionalism. Ilya hummed softly to herself, enjoying the discomfort her presence seemed to cause him. The silence between them stretched, filled only by the steady rhythm of the horse's hooves on the wet cobblestones.

Eventually, Ilya decided to break the silence. "So, Detective Black, why exactly were you looking for me?"

He cleared his throat, still avoiding her gaze. "There's been a murder in Fort Park."

Ilya was momentarily shocked. Murders were not an everyday occurrence in their usually quiet district. "A murder? But why do you need a gynaecologist?"

His expression turned grim. "You'll see when we get there. It's... it's something that requires your specific expertise."

Ilya felt her heart drop. His tone and the tension in his face suggested the situation was dire. "How bad was it?" she asked, already fearing the answer.

Detective Black nodded. "The manner of her death... it's quite gruesome."

The rest of the carriage ride was silent, the gravity of the situation sinking in. Ilya's mind raced with possibilities, each more horrific than the last. The rain outside seemed to match the sombre mood within the carriage.

They arrived, stopping in front of number 18 Milestone Road. The house was unassuming, its exterior blending in with the other homes on the street, but the air around it was heavy with a sense of dread and curiosity.

Detective Black helped Ilya out of the carriage, his touch gentle but his demeanour focused and serious. They approached the house, which was cordoned off by the police. A few officers nodded at Detective Black, stepping aside to let them pass.

Inside, the atmosphere was thick with tension. The entry hall was dimly lit, and the murmurs of hushed conversations could be heard from the adjoining rooms. Detective Black led Ilya upstairs, stopping in front of a closed door.

"Prepare yourself," he said quietly. "It's not an easy sight."

He opened the door, and Ilya stepped into the room. The scene before her was like something out of a nightmare. Flesh and skin were stretched grotesquely, attached to each corner of the room, forming a macabre web. At the centre of this horrific tableau were the ribs, splayed open, and organs spilling onto the floor in a gruesome display.

The head of the body hung forward, bloodied brown hair barely covering striking green eyes filled with terror. Ilya's heart lurched as she recognized the victim. It was Everlyn Taylor, and somehow, she was still alive.