stress. Her body is weak, and her mind is on the verge of collapse. She ca

om. Dominic stood by the window, his back to the room, listening to the diagnosi

fragile Hazel truly was. He' d seen her coldness, her defiance, and

r mother. She was dressed in a white hospital gown, her f

e whispered,

side. "Julia, you

minic, I' m so sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen. I just.

sobs. "Please, don' t blame Hazel. It' s me. I' m the one w

ting herself as the magnanimous victim. Dominic felt a surge of frustration

t, Julia," he murmure

eyes glistening. "I... I

im like a physi

..." she choked on a sob. "Our

was cruel. And it worked. The guilt that had been a flicker in Dominic' s chest roared

ndkerchief. "I know it' s a strange thing t

tening, his mind reeli

hisper. "She' s such a brilliant artist.

ng... maybe she could create something for me. A piece of art. To commemo

ut of place, that it took Domini

made from a place of deep emotion has special power. And Hazel... she loved you so mu

en. To ask Hazel, in her current state, to create art for t

he child they had lost. A child he hadn' t even known existed until

ft and persuasive. "I' m sure she' d want to create somethi

t accused that same kind heart of being inhuman. The guilt

r hand tightening on his arm. "It' s t

. He felt torn, but Julia' s grief, her loss, felt more

right," he said, his voice

t imperceptible glint of triumph before t

e' s a specific medium I had in mind. Something that would make the p

his. The chill of her gaze was sharp and unsettling,