PART 4: THE BABIES DAVID CHOSE BEFORE THEY WERE BORN
For a long moment, I could only stare at the date beside my signature.
Three weeks before I knew I was pregnant.
Three weeks before five plastic sticks turned my entire life upside down.
Three weeks before I had ever said the words, “David, I need to see you.”
“This is impossible,” I whispered.
Emily didn’t answer.
She was already comparing the document to the others spread across my kitchen table.
I grabbed my phone and opened my calendar.
I scrolled backward.
Work meetings.
Dentist appointment.
Dinner with David.
A weekend we had spent at a hotel downtown.
Then I found the date printed on the form.
March 4.
My breath caught.
“I was with him that day.”
Emily looked up.
“What?”
“David.”
I tapped the screen.
“We had dinner.”
“Do you remember anything unusual?”
I tried.
At first, all I could remember was wine, soft music and David telling me I worked too much.
Then something surfaced.
A pharmacy bag.
My stomach twisted.
“He brought me vitamins.”
Emily went still.
“What kind?”
“I don’t know.”
“Sarah.”
“He said I looked exhausted and bought me supplements.”
“Did you take them?”
“For maybe two weeks.”
Emily’s expression changed.
“Do you still have the bottle?”
“I might.”
I rushed into my bathroom.
Behind old moisturizer and a half-empty bottle of cough syrup sat a small amber container.
No label.
Just a white sticker with my name handwritten across it.
SARAH.
I carried it back into the kitchen.
Emily didn’t touch it.
“Those don’t look like store-bought vitamins.”
“I know that now.”
My skin crawled.
David had told me his doctor friend made personalized vitamin packs.
I had thought it was thoughtful.
Everything cruel he did had once arrived disguised as care.
Emily took a photograph of the bottle.
“We don’t guess what these are.”
“What do we do?”
“We give them to your lawyer.”
“I don’t have a lawyer.”
“You do now.”
She called hers.
Ten minutes later, we were speaking to a woman named Rebecca Sloan.
Emily didn’t explain everything over the phone.
She only said, “Rebecca, David filed against Sarah Mitchell. There are forged documents, surveillance photographs, and something involving Lakeshore.”
Silence.
Then Rebecca’s voice sharpened.
“Do not leave the apartment alone.”
My stomach dropped.
Emily put the call on speaker.
“David was just here.”
“Did he enter?”
“No.”
“Did he threaten either of you?”
Emily looked at me.
“He told us to be careful.”
“Save everything. Screenshots, call logs, security footage, photographs.”
I picked up the pill bottle.
“There’s something else.”
I explained.
Rebecca was silent for several seconds.
“Do not consume anything from that bottle.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“Put it inside a clean plastic bag. Do not handle it more than necessary.”
My heart began pounding.
“Rebecca, what do you think it is?”
“I don’t know.”
“But?”
“But I don’t like coincidences involving forged consent forms dated before a pregnancy was discovered.”
Neither did I.
Rebecca told us she would challenge the emergency petition immediately.
She also wanted copies of every document Emily had removed from David’s office.
Then she asked the question neither of us had considered.
“Emily, does David know you took the folder?”
Emily hesitated.
“He knows I found something.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
She looked toward the hallway.
“No.”
Rebecca exhaled.
“Then assume he is trying to determine exactly what you have.”
A cold feeling moved through me.
The SUV across the street suddenly felt much closer.
“What should we do about Mason?” Emily asked.
“Get him somewhere David cannot isolate him.”
“He’s with a neighbor.”
“Not enough.”
Emily rubbed her forehead.
“My mother?”
“Does David have access to her house?”
“Yes.”
“Then no.”
I watched Emily’s face fall.
The list of people she could trust had apparently become terrifyingly short.
Rebecca continued.
“I’m filing for emergency protective orders and preservation of records. But listen carefully: do not confront David again. If his family’s companies are connected to Noah’s placement and Sarah’s petition, we need evidence before anyone starts destroying it.”
The words his family’s companies made me feel sick.
This was no longer an affair.
It was no longer even one hidden child.
It was a system.
After the call, Emily stared at the folder.
“I need to get Mason.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“No.”
“Emily—”
“Sarah, you have Leo.”
“So?”
“So David wants you frightened and moving around.”
She looked toward the bassinet.
“Stay here until Rebecca sends someone.”
I hated that she was right.
“Then don’t go alone.”
Emily picked up her phone.
“I won’t.”
She called Laura Bennett.
No answer.
She called again.
Still nothing.
Then Laura texted.
CAN’T TALK. BENJAMIN IS WITH ME. WE’RE SAFE.
Emily exhaled.
Another message arrived.
MICHAEL THINKS SOMEONE FOLLOWED HIM FROM WORK.
Emily showed me.
Whatever relief I had felt disappeared.
“This is getting worse.”
“It’s getting visible,” Emily corrected.
“What’s the difference?”
“For years David controlled everything because nobody compared notes.”
She looked at me.
“Now we are.”
That sentence stayed with me.
Maybe secrets didn’t survive because liars were brilliant.
Maybe they survived because victims were kept apart.
The wife didn’t talk to the mistress.
The birth mother didn’t talk to the adoptive mother.
The patient didn’t talk to the other patient.
Everyone carried one strange piece of the puzzle and assumed they were the only one confused.
David had counted on that.
My phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
I almost ignored it.
Then a text appeared.
SARAH, THIS IS DR. MEYERS FROM NORTHWESTERN. PLEASE CALL ME AS SOON AS POSSIBLE REGARDING YOUR REQUEST FOR RECORDS.
I looked at Emily.
“I didn’t request records.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“Don’t call.”
A second message appeared.
IT CONCERNS YOUR SON.
My blood turned cold.
“What if it’s real?”
“Look up the hospital number yourself.”
I did.
Then I called the main switchboard and asked for Dr. Meyers.
“There is no physician by that name listed here,” the operator said.
My hand tightened around the phone.
“Thank you.”
I hung up.
A third message arrived.
WE NEED TO DISCUSS LEO’S GENETIC SCREENING.
I stopped breathing.
Emily read it.
“Block the number.”
“Wait.”
“What?”
“How does whoever this is know Leo had genetic testing?”
Emily’s face changed.
“David would know.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“I never told him.”
Leo’s Down syndrome diagnosis had been confirmed in the hospital.
David had received one photo and one message after the birth.
That was it.
Emily leaned toward me.
“Could he have accessed the records?”
“I don’t know.”
But there was something else.
When Leo was born, a nurse had mentioned that additional testing was being run because of his physical features.
The man pretending to be from financial services had visited hours later.
Suddenly, his questions didn’t feel random.
A knock sounded at the door.
Emily and I both jumped.
“Sarah Mitchell?”
A woman’s voice.
“I’m with Sloan & Park. Rebecca sent me.”
Emily checked with Rebecca before we opened the door.
The woman was real.
Her name was Carla.
Former police detective.
Now an investigator for the law firm.
The moment she entered, she photographed the documents exactly where they were lying before touching anything.
Then she looked at the pill bottle.
“Where did this come from?”
“David gave it to me.”
“When?”
“Before I knew I was pregnant.”
Carla bagged it.
“What did he tell you?”
“Vitamins.”
“Did he give you anything else around that time?”
I thought.
“Tea.”
“What?”
“He used to bring me herbal tea.”
“Do you still have any?”
“No.”
“Food?”
“Sometimes.”
“Medication?”
“No.”
Then I remembered.
“Actually…”
Emily looked at me.
“What?”
“I had migraines.”
Carla’s pen stopped.
“Did David give you medication?”
“Once.”
“What was it?”
“He said it was prescription-strength ibuprofen.”
“Was it in packaging?”
“No.”
Emily whispered my name.
I felt suddenly ashamed of how trusting I had been.
“He was my boyfriend. I didn’t think—”
Carla interrupted gently.
“You don’t need to defend believing someone you trusted.”
Then she asked, “Did David ever ask whether you wanted children?”
My throat tightened.
“Yes.”
“What did you say?”
“That someday I did.”
“When?”
I closed my eyes.
“A few weeks before I got pregnant.”
Carla and Emily exchanged a look.
My stomach dropped.
“What?”
Carla didn’t answer immediately.
“Did he ask about birth control?”
“Yes.”
“Specifically?”
I nodded.
“He knew I was on the pill.”
“Did your contraceptive routine change?”
“No.”
Then memory hit me.
I stared at the table.
Except it had.
Not because I changed it.
Because one morning I couldn’t find the packet.
David had laughed and said I was always losing things.
He found it later behind the bathroom trash can.
I had believed him.
“Oh my God.”
Emily leaned closer.
“What?”
“My pills disappeared once.”
Carla’s expression hardened.
“How long?”
“Maybe a day.”
“Did David have access to them?”
“He was in my apartment.”
“Did you resume taking them?”
“Yes.”
Carla wrote something down.
I felt nauseous.
“Are you saying he wanted me pregnant?”
“I’m saying we don’t know yet.”
“But the document—”
“We prove. We don’t assume.”
Her discipline was almost comforting.
Almost.
Then Emily’s phone rang.
Mason.
She answered.
“Hi, sweetheart.”
No response.
“Mason?”
We heard breathing.
Then a man’s voice.
“Hello, Emily.”
David.
Emily’s entire body stiffened.
“Where is Mason?”
“With me.”
“You told me he was with Mrs. Palmer.”
“He was.”
“Give him the phone.”
“No.”
“David.”
“Come home.”
Emily’s face turned white.
“Let me speak to my son.”
“When you start behaving rationally.”
Carla immediately motioned for Emily to keep him talking.
Emily put the phone on speaker.
“You cannot use Mason to control me.”
“I’m not controlling anyone.”
“Then let me speak to him.”
“You abandoned your home before sunrise.”
“I went to see Sarah.”
“You disappeared.”
“I texted you.”
“You took confidential documents.”
There it was.
He knew.
Emily looked at Carla.
Carla wrote on a pad:
ASK WHAT DOCUMENTS.
“What documents?” Emily asked.
David paused.
“You know exactly what you took.”
“I took nothing.”
“You are a terrible liar.”
Emily almost smiled.
“Interesting coming from you.”
“Do not make this uglier than it needs to be.”
“Where is Mason?”
“Safe.”
“With whom?”
“His father.”
“Where?”
David sighed.
“You’re proving my point.”
“What point?”
“That you’re unstable.”
Emily’s eyes flashed.
“You told me Noah died.”
Silence.
Carla nodded for her to continue.
“You forged my signature.”
More silence.
“You gave away our son.”
Then David said something that chilled all three of us.
“You signed what needed to be signed.”
Emily stopped breathing.
“What did you say?”
“You heard me.”
“That was not my signature.”
“Be very careful making accusations you cannot prove.”
“You just admitted—”
“I admitted nothing.”
Then his voice softened.
“Emily, you were sick.”
Her face went completely still.
“What?”
“After Noah was born.”
“You mean after I hemorrhaged?”
“You weren’t yourself.”
“I had just had surgery.”
“You don’t remember everything.”
Emily gripped the table.
Carla shook her head, warning her not to lose control.
David continued.
“You begged me to handle it.”
“That’s a lie.”
“You said you couldn’t raise a disabled child.”
“No.”
“You said you couldn’t even look at him.”
“NO.”
Leo startled in the bassinet.
I rushed over and lifted him.
Emily lowered her voice, but tears streamed down her face.
“I held Noah before surgery.”
David didn’t respond.
“I kissed his forehead.”
Silence.
“I told him his mommy was coming back.”
David’s next words were almost emotionless.
“You were heavily medicated.”
Emily covered her mouth.
“I remember.”
“You remember what you want to remember.”
Carla’s face hardened.
David continued.
“If you return home, we can resolve this quietly.”
“No.”
“Think about Mason.”
“I am.”
“Then stop tearing his family apart.”
Emily stared at the phone.
“You tore it apart when you buried an empty urn.”
There was a long silence.
Then David said, “Who told you it was empty?”
Emily froze.
So did Carla.
So did I.
David had made another mistake.
A huge one.
Emily whispered, “I never said it was.”
Silence.
David hung up.
Carla immediately grabbed her phone.
“Rebecca needs that recording now.”
Emily looked like she might collapse.
“He knew the urn was empty.”
I held Leo tighter.
“He knew because there was never anything in it.”
Carla sent the audio file.
Then she looked at Emily.
“We need Mason located immediately.”
She stepped into the hallway to make calls.
Emily stood motionless beside my kitchen table.
I walked toward her.
“We’re going to get him.”
She nodded, but I’m not sure she heard me.
Ten minutes later, Carla came back inside.
“Police went to your house.”
Emily turned.
“And?”
“David isn’t there.”
“Mason?”
“Neither is Mason.”
Emily’s knees buckled.
I caught her arm.
“No.”
Carla continued carefully.
“His vehicle is gone.”
“Track his phone.”
“It appears to be turned off.”
Emily grabbed her purse.
“I’m going.”
“Where?”
“To find my son.”
“Emily, we need to think.”
“I AM thinking.”
She looked at Carla.
“My husband abducted my child.”
“We don’t know that yet.”
“He refused to tell me where he was.”
Carla’s phone rang.
She answered.
“Yes?”
Her expression changed.
“When?”
She listened.
“Send it.”
She hung up.
“What?” Emily demanded.
“Your neighbor’s security camera caught David leaving.”
“With Mason?”
Carla nodded.
“What time?”
“About twenty minutes ago.”
“Where were they going?”
“No idea.”
Then the video arrived.
We watched David’s black SUV pull away from the Hayes house.
Mason was visible through the rear passenger window.
But another vehicle followed seconds later.
A gray sedan.
Emily leaned closer.
“Who is that?”
Carla zoomed in on the license plate.
Then she froze.
“What?”
“I’ve seen that plate.”
“Where?”
She grabbed one of the surveillance photos from my emergency petition.
A gray sedan was parked across from my office.
Same plate.
The person following me had also followed David and Mason.
Or maybe he wasn’t following them.
Maybe he was escorting them.
Carla made another call.
While she spoke, I looked through the photographs.
One showed the gray sedan outside my pediatric clinic.
Another showed it near my apartment.
Then something caught my eye.
In one picture, a man stood beside the car.
The image was blurred, but his face was partially visible.
The same man from Laura’s security footage.
The fake hospital employee.
The witness on my forged document.
I pointed.
“That’s him.”
Carla ended her call and looked.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“Have you ever heard his name?”
I looked at the witness signature.
MARK COLLINS.
Carla typed the name into her laptop.
Nothing useful came up.
Then Emily suddenly said, “Wait.”
She took the computer.
“Search Marcus, not Mark.”
Carla did.
The results loaded.
Emily went pale.
“What is it?”
She turned the screen.
An old photograph from a charity gala appeared.
David.
Richard Hayes.
And the man from the hospital.
The caption identified him.
MARCUS COLE.
Director of Operations, Hayes Family Management.
My stomach dropped.
“He works for David’s father.”
Emily scrolled farther.
Another page.
A cached press release.
Hayes Family Management had funded several “special-needs placement initiatives” across Illinois.
One of the listed organizations was Lakeshore.
Carla whispered, “This is bigger than we thought.”
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number again.
I almost ignored it.
Carla motioned for me to answer.
“Hello?”
Nothing.
Then a child spoke.
“Mom?”
My heart stopped.
It wasn’t Leo.
It was an older child.
“Who is this?”
The child whispered, “My name is Benjamin.”
Emily nearly ripped the phone from my hand.
“Benjamin?”
The boy went silent.
“Sweetheart, this is Emily.”
Another pause.
Then Benjamin said, “Are you Noah’s mom?”
Emily’s face broke.
“Yes.”
Her voice barely existed.
“Yes, I am.”
I covered my mouth.
Carla immediately started tracing the call through her office.
Emily pressed the phone against her ear.
“Are you safe?”
“I think so.”
“Where are Laura and Michael?”
“Mom told me to stay upstairs.”
“Where is she?”
“Talking to a man.”
Emily looked at Carla.
“What man?”
“The one who came yesterday.”
David.
Emily’s eyes widened.
“Benjamin, listen to me very carefully. Do not go downstairs.”
“But he said he’s my real dad.”
Emily started crying.
“Stay upstairs.”
“He said you were coming to take me away.”
“No. I would never do that.”
“He said everybody is lying.”
“Benjamin—”
Then we heard a door slam through the phone.
The boy gasped.
“Someone’s coming.”
“Hide.”
“I’m in my closet.”
“Stay there.”
Footsteps sounded faintly.
Then another voice.
A man.
“Benjamin?”
David.
Emily closed her eyes.
“Don’t answer him.”
David called again.
“Buddy?”
Benjamin whispered, “He knows I’m here.”
“Stay quiet.”
The footsteps grew louder.
Then David spoke from somewhere much closer.
“Benjamin, your mother is very worried.”
Emily mouthed, He means Laura.
A door opened.
Benjamin’s breathing quickened.
Then suddenly he whispered, “There’s another boy with him.”
Emily froze.
“What?”
“A little boy.”
Mason.
Emily’s hand flew to her mouth.
“Mason?”
She forgot Benjamin wouldn’t know the name.
“Benjamin, what does he look like?”
“He has brown hair.”
“Is he about six?”
“I think.”
Emily began trembling.
“He brought Mason to Benjamin’s house.”
Carla was already on the phone with police.
Then David’s voice came through clearly.
“Benjamin, open the closet.”
The boy started crying.
Emily whispered, “Don’t.”
“Please.”
David tried the handle.
Then something strange happened.
Another man shouted downstairs.
Not David.
“David! We need to go!”
David cursed.
Footsteps moved away.
A door slammed.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Benjamin whispered, “They left.”
Emily sobbed in relief.
“Stay hidden until your mom comes upstairs.”
“But the little boy stayed.”
Emily’s head snapped up.
“What?”
“The boy.”
“Mason?”
“He’s here.”
Emily nearly collapsed.
“Where?”
“He’s downstairs.”
Then we heard Laura screaming in the background.
“BENJAMIN!”
“Mom!”
The call became chaotic.
Doors.
Footsteps.
Crying.
Finally Laura took the phone.
“Emily?”
“Is Mason there?”
Laura was breathing hard.
“Yes.”
Emily covered her face.
“Oh, thank God.”
“But David left him.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
Laura sounded terrified.
“He showed up with Mason, demanded to speak to Benjamin, then another man came inside and whispered something to him.”
“What?”
“I couldn’t hear.”
“Then what happened?”
“David just left.”
Carla leaned toward the phone.
“Laura, this is Carla Reyes with Sloan & Park. Lock every door. Police are on their way.”
Laura whispered, “There’s something else.”
“What?”
“David gave Mason something before he left.”
Emily’s eyes widened.
“What?”
“A backpack.”
“Open it.”
Carla immediately shook her head.
“No. Do not touch anything.”
Laura went quiet.
Then she said, “Mason already opened it.”
Emily looked like she couldn’t breathe.
“What’s inside?”
I heard Laura speaking softly to Mason.
Then silence.
“Laura?” Emily said.
No answer.
“Laura?”
When Laura spoke again, her voice had completely changed.
“There are photographs.”
“What photographs?”
“Babies.”
Carla stared at the phone.
“How many?”
Laura counted quietly.
“One… two… six… eleven…”
My skin went cold.
“Eleven babies?”
“No.”
Laura’s voice trembled.
“There are more.”
Paper shuffled.
Emily whispered, “How many?”
“Twenty-three.”
Nobody moved.
Then Laura said, “Each photograph has a name and a date written on the back.”
Carla asked, “Do you recognize any?”
“Benjamin.”
Emily stopped breathing.
“And Leo.”
My arms tightened around my son.
“What?”
“There’s a photograph of Leo.”
My knees went weak.
“How?”
“It looks like it was taken in the hospital.”
I stared at my sleeping baby.
The first day of his life.
Someone had photographed him.
Laura continued.
“And there’s another baby who looks exactly like Benjamin did.”
Emily whispered, “Noah.”
“No.”
Laura’s voice cracked.
“The date is from two years before Noah was born.”
Emily and I stared at each other.
“There were others before him,” I whispered.
Then Mason said something in the background.
Laura went silent.
“What did he say?” Emily asked.
Laura didn’t answer.
“Laura?”
“He says the backpack belongs to Grandpa.”
Emily’s face drained of color.
“Richard?”
“Yes.”
Then Mason came onto the phone.
“Mom?”
“I’m here, baby.”
“Dad told me not to look in Grandpa’s red room.”
Emily slowly straightened.
“What red room?”
“At Grandpa’s office.”
“Have you been there?”
“Dad takes me sometimes.”
“What’s inside?”
“I don’t know.”
“Mason, why did Dad tell you not to look there?”
The little boy hesitated.
“Because that’s where Grandpa keeps the babies.”
Every person in my apartment stopped breathing.
Emily whispered, “What do you mean, keeps the babies?”
Mason answered with the innocent certainty of a child who had no idea he had just opened the door to something horrifying.
“The pictures, Mom.”
Then he added:
“And the bracelets.”
My eyes dropped to the faded photograph of newborn Noah.
The NICU bracelet.
The exact kind Leo had worn.
Emily whispered, “How many bracelets?”
Mason thought for a moment.
“A whole wall.”
Carla’s phone started ringing.
She looked at the screen.
Rebecca.
Carla answered.
“Tell me.”
Rebecca spoke fast enough that I couldn’t hear every word.
But Carla’s expression changed.
First confusion.
Then shock.
Then something close to fear.
“What?” Emily demanded.
Carla slowly lowered the phone.
“Rebecca obtained part of the sealed court file connected to Noah’s adoption.”
“And?”
“She found the physician who certified the placement.”
Emily stared at her.
“Who?”
Carla looked at us.
“Dr. Richard Hayes.”
David’s father.
Emily sank into the chair.
But Carla wasn’t finished.
“And there’s something else.”
“What?”
“The same doctor signed a developmental placement recommendation three months ago.”
My heart started pounding.
“For who?”
Carla looked directly at Leo.
“For your son.”
I felt the room tilt.
“That’s impossible. Richard Hayes has never examined Leo.”
“I know.”
“He’s never even met him.”
Carla swallowed.
“The recommendation was completed before Leo was born.”
The room went silent.
Emily whispered, “Before?”
Carla nodded.
“Five weeks before.”
My entire body turned cold.
Then she placed the phone on the table.
On the screen was a scanned document Rebecca had sent.
At the top were my name and Leo’s expected birth date.
Below that:
PREDICTED DEVELOPMENTAL CONDITION: TRISOMY 21.
I couldn’t breathe.
“They knew.”
Emily stared at me.
“They knew Leo had Down syndrome before he was born.”
I shook my head.
“No. My prenatal screenings never showed that.”
“Did you have genetic testing?”
“Basic screening. Nothing definitive.”
Carla zoomed in on the document.
At the bottom was a laboratory reference number.
“We find the lab, we find out where that information came from.”
Then my phone buzzed.
One new email.
No sender name.
Subject:
YOUR SON WAS NEVER AN ACCIDENT.
I stared at it.
Emily whispered, “Don’t open it.”
But I already had.
There was only one attachment.
A medical report.
My name at the top.
Blood collection date: March 2.
Two days before the forged consent form.
I had never given blood that day.
At least, I didn’t remember giving blood.
Then I saw the clinic name.
MILLER EXECUTIVE WELLNESS.
I knew that place.
David had taken me there.
Not for pregnancy testing.
For what he called a “free annual health screening” through his company.
My hands shook violently.
I scrolled farther.
Genetic carrier analysis.
Hormone panel.
Fertility markers.
Then one line made the entire room disappear around me.
PREGNANCY DETECTED: APPROX. 6–9 DAYS POST-CONCEPTION.
I stopped breathing.
March 2.
David had known I was pregnant before I did.
But underneath that was something worse.
A handwritten note had been scanned with the report.
Only five words.
SUBJECT 24 — CONFIRMED VIABLE.
Emily whispered, “Subject twenty-four?”
My eyes moved toward the photographs Laura had just found.
Twenty-three babies.
And then Leo.
I looked down at my son.
Twenty-four.
Leo wasn’t simply another child David wanted hidden.
He was number twenty-four.
And whoever had sent me that email wanted me to know it.
Then another message arrived.
This one contained an address.
No explanation.
Just coordinates and a sentence:
IF YOU WANT TO KNOW WHY DAVID CHOSE YOU, COME BEFORE MIDNIGHT.
A second sentence appeared beneath it.
COME ALONE.
Then a photograph loaded.
A photograph taken years earlier.
David was standing beside Richard Hayes.
Between them stood a young pregnant woman I had never seen before.
Someone had drawn a circle around her face.
Underneath, someone had written:
SUBJECT 23.
Emily leaned over my shoulder.
And suddenly she screamed.
I turned toward her.
“What?”
She pointed at the pregnant woman.
Her face had gone completely white.
“I know her.”
“Who is she?”
Emily stared at the photograph as if a dead woman had just walked into the room.
“That’s my sister.”………….
TO BE CONTINUED IN LAST PART…
