The Dying Wife's Secret Baby Bump

sterile quiet of Dr. Bancroft's office. She pressed her palms flat against her thighs, st

stood by his desk, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. That gesture

him. He picked up a manila folder, opened it, and slid a

for a second before her eyes focused. Gliobla

n't mask the weight of the sentence. "It's the most aggressive type of brain tumor. Even with the m

panic to hit, for the air to leave her lungs. Instead, a strange numbness spread through he

Her voice sounded forei

. "Maybe six, if we start i

ss held. It felt like a protective

ed in his seat, looking down at the folde

es. How could there be anythi

requested," he began, his tone cautious. "You mentioned your

r heart beginning a slow,

evels." He paused, letting the medical jargon hang i

er hand moved before her brain could catch up, pressing flat against her stom

ant.

octors used when delivering tragic ironies. "Radiation and chemotherapy would be devastating to a fetus, especially at

gers curled, digging into the soft flesh of her abdomen as i

r purse with a shaking hand and pulled out her phone. The screen had lit up on i

ed. It was a compulsion

her. The Boyle Inheritance

usband. His face was all sharp angles and cold eyes, a fac

screen for a second too l

phs, stopping at a block quote highlighted in

rks three years this month. Are there an

the Boyle bloodline end with me tha

air rushed out of her lungs. The room tilt

rd. He had just taken her, right there in the dark, a punishment dressed up as a husband's right. Th

in her ears. "Did you hear what I said? We need to disc

ut the words were burned into her retinas. The num

do nothing?

s glasses slipping down

surgery." Her voice was sa

ing to reveal sheer shock. "Without treatment

throat, dry and brittle. It wasn't a laugh

hild he despised. A marri

. Her legs felt like they belonged to

not an option," Dr. Bancroft said, standi

cross the desk. Her hand closed over the

ready carved into her brain. She clutched the folder to her chest like a s

g the evidence here, under his watchful, pitying eyes,

zen behind his desk, h

had solidified into something hard and impenetrable. "I was never here today," she s

ed out of the office, the door clicking shut behind

ce quickening with every step. She pushed through the heavy

er eyes. She squinted, raising a hand to shield her face. The air smelled of exhaust fumes a

ne, the rough surface snagging her silk blouse. Her hands shook as she opened the folder. She pulled out the pathology report. The black typefac

to tiny, meaningless pieces. The stiff paper resisted, cutting her fingertips. She

t. She folded it carefully, once, twice, and tucked it deep

s, expanding her chest. It hurt, but it was a g

d the cold silences, the cruel remarks, the isolation. She had bee

Death had a way of rendering cl

em doing exactly what she wanted. She was going to protect this tiny, unw

a cab. A yellow taxi screeched to a halt in fron

er asked, not lookin

o? Home was a prison.

she said. "H

ned her head against the cool glass of the window. She watched the bui

anged. The rule