The morning light had barely touched the bedroom when she opened her eyes to her two-month-old daughter, London — tiny, peaceful, and perfect. For a moment, everything felt still. Safe. Whole. But in the next heartbeat, her world fractured beyond recognition.
Her fiancé, Clarence Martin Jr., had been acting strangely for days — pacing, muttering, slipping in and out of moods she didn’t recognize. Nicole hoped it was stress, exhaustion, something temporary. She had no way of knowing that the darkness gathering in him was about to explode.
That morning, his instability turned violent. Without warning, he attacked her — a rage she had never seen tearing through the room. Dazed and terrified, she tried to shield London, but Clarence had already turned toward the child. Before Nicole could reach them, he snatched the baby from the bed and rushed toward the balcony.
Nicole’s screams filled the apartment, but they couldn’t stop what happened next.
Clarence stepped outside with their infant daughter in his arms. Seconds felt like an eternity. The air froze. Nicole’s chest burned with dread.
Then he came back inside — alone.
When Nicole forced herself to look over the balcony’s edge, her breath collapsed. Her worst fear had come brutally true: her baby, her precious London, lay motionless below.
In that devastating moment, everything Nicole knew — every plan, every hope, every dream she held for her child’s future — shattered. But even through the terror and heartbreak, something inside her ignited: the will to survive, to tell the truth of what happened, and to make sure London’s short life would never be forgotten.
It was the morning that took everything from her — and the morning she vowed to fight for justice, no matter how long or how hard the road ahead would be.