I stared at the sleeping child.
“How long?”
“Eight monThS.”
Eight monThS.
Eight months of believing my baby was gone.
Eight months of grieving a child who had been alive.
Eric’s voice broke.
“I found out six months ago.”
I turned toward him sharply.
“You knew for six months?”
“Yes.”
The anger came instantly.
“You let me mourn him while you knew?”
“I was trying to make sure he was safe before I told you.”
“That wasn’t your decision to make, Eric.”
“I know.”
For once, the billionaire who could negotiate billion-dollar deals and silence entire boardrooms had no defense.
He simply lowered his head.
“I was wrong.”
I looked at the baby again.
He stirred, opened his eyes for the first time, and made a tiny sound.
Something inside me broke open.
I reached for him.
Eric carefully placed the baby in my arms.
The moment his tiny fingers wrapped around mine, I began to cry.
