The room went silent except for the baby’s soft breathing.
Rachel started crying.
Not the kind of tears that come from guilt.
The kind that come from terror.
She sank to the floor, clutching the paper like it was burning her hands.
“I was raped,” she whispered.
The words hung in the air like smoke.
Ethan dropped to his knees beside her.
“What?”
“Three years ago,” she sobbed. “After the third miscarriage. You were on a business trip. I went for a walk to clear my head. A man… he grabbed me. I fought. I screamed. But no one came. I was too ashamed to tell you. I thought it was my fault. I thought if I got pregnant, it was a miracle from God. I thought… I thought the baby was yours. I wanted it to be yours so badly.”
Ethan held her while she cried.
He held her while the truth tore through both of them.
