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The nurse gently placed my newborn into my arms, and the very first thing my husband did was glance at his notifications.

Then Daniel turned his gaze to me, casually suggesting, “Why don’t you take the bus home tomorrow? I’m treating my family to hotpot.”

For a fleeting moment, the room fell into a stunned silence, broken only by the soft, intermittent sounds of my baby’s breathing against my chest.

I thought I must have misinterpreted him.

“What did you say?” My response barely escaped my lips.

His mother, Elaine, fiddled with her jewelry and sighed dramatically, as if I were the one causing trouble. “Claire, please don’t make this a fuss. You’ll be leaving in the morning. The bus stop is conveniently right outside.”

“I just gave birth six hours ago,” I murmured.

Daniel shrugged nonchalantly. “My parents are here. We’ve already made dinner plans. You wouldn’t want us to cancel just because you’re tired, would you?”

His sister Melissa chimed in with a sharp laugh, “Women have babies every day.”

I looked at them—their expensive attire, their frosty demeanor, and the car keys Daniel clutched tightly… a car I had paid for.

My son let out a soft whimper, prompting me to draw him closer.

“Daniel,” I spoke quietly, “you’re really leaving me here all alone?”

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a hiss. “Don’t give me that look. You should be appreciative that my family accepted you after everything.”

Everything.

That was a reference to the simplicity of my life. My decision to keep my true identity under wraps, letting him think I was just a regular accountant with nothing to boast about.

Elaine peeked into the baby’s bag and grimaced. “Inexpensive items. We can replace them—assuming the baby resembles Daniel.”

Something shifted within me.

It wasn’t pain.

It wasn’t disbelief.

It was sheer clarity.

Daniel pressed a kiss to the baby’s forehead with the ease of a practiced gesture, then pivoted towards the exit.

At the door, he paused. “Don’t call too much. We’re celebrating.”
The door clicked shut behind him.
I sat there—hurt, drained, and hollow—my newborn cradled against my chest.

I allowed myself three minutes of tears.

Then I reached for my phone.

My contact list had two entries that Daniel didn’t even know about.

My attorney.

And my father.

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