His jaw tightened. “You told me it wasn’t necessary. You said you read online that after three weeks it was fine!”
“I am a doctor, not an internet forum,” Dr. Sutton interjected sharply. She turned the wand back to my stomach.
I was still lying there, slick with gel, my heart hammering against my ribs. “So,” I whispered, my voice trembling, “the baby is his.”
“Based on the timeline, yes. Undeniably,” Dr. Sutton said gently. Then, she paused. The wand hovered over my lower abdomen. Her eyes widened slightly behind her glasses. “Wait.”
My breath caught in my throat. “Is something wrong?”
She enlarged the image. The grainy black-and-white static shifted.
“There is a second gestational sac,” Dr. Sutton said softly.
I froze. The world outside this room simply ceased to exist. “A second?”
She adjusted the frequency. Suddenly, a tiny, rapid sound filled the room. Swoosh-swoosh-swoosh. And then, slightly offbeat, a second sound joined it. Swoosh-swoosh-swoosh.
Fast. Strong. Alive.
“Mrs. Vance,” the doctor smiled, a genuine, warm expression. “There are two. You are having twins.”
I covered my mouth with both hands, a sob tearing its way up my throat. Two. Not one. Two lives growing inside me while the world, led by the man I loved, called me a whore. Two hearts beating while David drained our bank accounts and Peyton handed me a pen to sign my life away.
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