My Child My Heart Your Lies
Language: en
The delivery room was a vacuum of fluorescent lights and the sharp, cloying scent of antiseptic. Pitocin pulsed through my veins, an artificial rhythm that triggered waves of agony, pulling at my midsection like an anchor dragging through silt. Wes leaned in then. He didn’t offer a hand to hold or a word of comfort. Instead, a jagged, predatory smile ghosted across his lips. His voice was a low crawl, like a secret whispered in a graveyard. “I have something to show you, Cassie.” He pulled out his phone with agonizing slowness. The screen flickered to life, displaying a family portrait.…