My history. Three months earlier, after I discovered withdrawals from my investment account, Damon had dismissed them as “pregnancy paranoia.” A week later, my prenatal vitamins tasted bitter. I stopped taking them and sent one capsule to a private lab using my best friend’s name. The report came back clean enough not to kill me, but dirty enough to make me lightheaded. Sedatives. Tiny amounts.
I had not confronted him. Confrontation was for people who had no plan.
Instead, I gave a weak smile and asked for a pen.
Damon’s shoulders relaxed. Celeste breathed out. My father closed his eyes as though mercy had finally arrived.
I signed only one page, the hospital discharge form, then let the pen drop.
“Oops,” I whispered. “Nurse?”
When the nurse entered, I asked her to take my daughter for a checkup. Damon protested. The nurse looked at the chart and said, “Only the mother can authorize newborn movement unless there’s a court order.” Mother'sDay gifts
There it was. The first crack.
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