I also found something far more disturbing.
There were messages between Damian and Constance discussing ways to pressure me into surrendering custody of my unborn child.
One message read:
“If she refuses, make her life difficult enough that she gives up.”
Another message suggested spreading rumors to isolate me from everyone around me.
I could have confronted them immediately.
Instead, I quietly saved every document.
Sometimes silence is stronger than anger.
The Long Drive to the Hospital
The morning my labor began, snow was falling across the city.
I woke up before sunrise with a sharp pain spreading through my back and abdomen.
My hands were trembling.
I reached for my phone.
There were no messages.
No family members.
No husband waiting nearby.
I was completely alone.
I wrapped myself in a heavy coat, picked up my hospital bag, and slowly made my way to my car.
As I drove toward the hospital, every red light felt endless.
One hand remained tightly wrapped around the steering wheel while the other rested protectively against my stomach.
“Please wait a little longer,” I whispered to my son.
But he had other plans.
By the time I arrived at the hospital, the contractions were coming quickly.
Several hours later, I heard the most beautiful sound I had ever known.
My son had entered the world.
His tiny cry filled the room.
Tears immediately ran down my face.
Then something unexpected happened.
The doctor holding him suddenly became completely silent.
He stared down at the baby as though he had seen something impossible.
His face lost all color.
Then I saw tears gathering in his eyes.
“What happened?” I asked weakly.
He looked directly at me.
“Who is the child’s father?”
My heart skipped a beat.
“Damian Prescott.”
The doctor tightened his grip on the blanket.
Before he could say another word, the door opened.
Damian walked into the room.
An Unexpected Visitor
Damian smiled when he saw me.
It was the same smile he always wore during business meetings.
Cold.
Controlled.
Distant.
Constance followed closely behind him.
Neither of them carried flowers.
Neither of them asked whether I was feeling well.
Constance looked directly at the baby.
“So this is the child?”
I held my son a little closer.
“This is my son.”
Damian laughed softly.
“We’ll see what the court decides.”
The doctor immediately stepped between them and the bassinet.
His name was Dr. Samuel Prescott.
The moment Constance saw his face, her expression changed.
“Samuel?” she whispered.
The room became perfectly still.
Damian stared at the doctor.
