't explosive. It was q

NIPT report and the audio file playing on

et of my favorite peonies in his hand,

what's wrong?

d my head. His lips brushed my c

inted at

ock, then to pale, clammy fear. The peonies dro

. I can

"Explain that I'm just a 'vessel'? Explain that the child I've fought

crumbling, pathetic man. He fell to his k

they were pressuring me. They said... they said you we

e, he was seduced by the idea of a perfect child, he never me

s, Molly! For

led my hands away.

deep, and terrifying. I gasped, clutching

! The

labor. As he frantically called for an ambulan

alled it "the baby

ey rushed me to the private floor Andrew had bought, the o

cy C-section. But then, he was there. A tiny,

But no