I shoved the baby back into the nurse’s startled arms, ignored Valerie’s sharp, sudden intake of breath, and practically burst through the heavy double doors of the maternity ward. The hospital corridor was endless, a blur of fluorescent lights and the distant, agonizing sound of newborns crying. Every cry felt like a high-pitched laugh at my expense.
I collapsed into a plastic chair in the waiting area, my hands shaking so violently I almost dropped my phone.
My thumb hovered over Lucy’s text. Open the envelope I left in your drawer. Right there, you’re going to understand exactly why Valerie chose David, of all people…
My mind was a chaotic storm. Lucy was pregnant. My Lucy. The woman I had publicly humiliated, the woman I had branded as “broken” and “barren” to justify my own disgusting betrayal, was carrying my child. The medical impossibility that had haunted our eight-year marriage had miraculously vanished, leaving behind a cruel, divine irony. But what did David have to do with the envelope? Why David?
David wasn’t just my business partner; he was my childhood friend. We had built Mendez & Partners Architecture from the dirt up in Guadalajara. He knew my finances. He knew my marriage. He knew my deepest, darkest insecurity—my desperate, consuming desire to leave a legacy.
I dialed Lucy’s number. Ring. Ring. Ring.
“The subscriber you are trying to reach is unavailable,” the automated voice chirped.
I cursed out loud, drawing stares from an elderly couple sitting across from me. I dialed again. Voicemail. I sent a barrage of texts. Lucy, please answer me. What envelope? Lucy, I’m sorry. Please.
Nothing. Only the cold, gray ellipses of a conversation that had reached its terminal point.
Driven by a toxic cocktail of adrenaline and terror, I sprinted out of the hospital, leaving Valerie and David’s baby behind. I didn’t care about the five-million-dollar condo in Brickell. I didn’t care about the SUV. I didn’t care about the looks of disgust from the hospital staff. I needed to get to my house. I needed to find that envelope.
