GINA’S POV
A week had passed, and nothing had changed. My son was slipping away from me, day by day, hour by hour, and I was powerless to stop it. The doctors spoke in hushed tones, their pitying glances cutting deeper than any blade.
I had no proof that Laila had tampered with the DNA test, no way to force Klaus to acknowledge Bernard as his own. The weight of my helplessness pressed down on me, a suffocating shadow I couldn’t escape.
But today—today, I just wanted bread. Simple, ordinary bread, maybe a few apples if the crumpled bills in my worn-out purse allowed it. No drama, no life-altering confrontations. And certainly nothing involving him.
I was already pushing through the sliding glass doors of the corner grocery store, my fingers tight around the thin plastic bag of groceries
