I smiled and told him not to worry. “I’ll give the baby an extra cuddle for you.”
He grinned.
“Tell Sierra I’m proud of her.”
The words echoed differently in my mind hours later.
But that morning, they felt harmless.
Lakeside Medical Center smelled like antiseptic and burnt coffee.
The maternity ward was quieter than I expected, sunlight slipping through narrow windows, reflecting off polished tile floors. Nurses moved with efficient calm. Visitors whispered. Balloons bobbed outside room doors.
I approached the reception desk.
“Hi, I’m here for Sierra Adams,” I said brightly.
The receptionist smiled and pointed down the corridor.
“Room 312.”
My heels tapped softly as I walked.
And then I heard it.
Kevin’s voice.
Clear.
Unmistakable.
My first thought was confusion. Maybe the meeting had been rescheduled. Maybe he wanted to surprise me.
I slowed.
The door to Room 312 was partially open.
I did not intend to eavesdrop.
But then I heard him laugh.
“She still believes every word I say.”
The gift bag shifted in my hand.
“She thinks all the late nights are business. Meanwhile, she keeps paying the bills. She’s perfect for that. A good cash cow.”
The air left my lungs.
Another voice joined in.
My mother.