Gina’s POV
I closed my eyes, swallowing hard against the lump in my throat. How could I tell him? How could I say that we’d already done the test? That the man I knew in my bones was Bernard’s father had looked me in the eye and said the child wasn’t his? That I was clinging to hope that the Goddess wouldn’t be as cruel as fate? Instead, I forced my voice to stay steady. Calm. Detached.
“Bernard’s father… isn’t available,” I said finally. “He’s not in the picture. And even if he was… I’m not sure it would make a difference.”
Another pause. This one was heavier. Dr. Reynolds had known me for years—he knew when I was lying. Or holding something back. But he didn’t press.
“I understand,” he said softly. “I’ll add Bernard to the national donor list today. It’s not an instant solution, but
