Cradle of Lies

Anatomy Scan

Dorothy sat in the parking lot of St. Catherine’s, staring at the fake ultrasound on her phone. Twenty weeks. The anatomy scan. The most detailed ultrasound of the entire pregnancy.

She’d spent two hours last night in the hospital’s imaging system after her shift, searching for the perfect scan to steal. She’d needed a twenty-week ultrasound where the parents had chosen not to know the s*x—those were labeled differently in the system, the relevant images carefully angled to keep the baby’s gender hidden.

She’d found one from six weeks ago. A healthy baby, all measurements normal, no complications. She’d taken screenshots of four different images—profile view, hand, feet, the spine. Edited each one carefully, changing the patient name, the date, the hospital information.

Now she had proof of a baby that didn’t exist.

Dorothy locked her phone and got out of the car. She was wearing the pregnancy padding under a loose dress—she wore it every day now, had gotten used to the weight of it, the way it changed how she moved. At twenty weeks, she was supposed to be obviously pregnant, and the padding made her look exactly right.

Jake was waiting by the front entrance, bouncing on his heels with nervous energy. When he saw her, his face lit up.

“Ready?” he asked, taking her hand.

“Ready.” Dorothy let him guide her inside, even though she knew this hospital better than he did.

They’d told everyone they were going to Mercy General for the scan. Jake had taken the afternoon off work. He’d been talking about this appointment for weeks, barely able to contain his excitement.

They reached the medical building where the imaging center was located. Dorothy paused outside the door.

“Actually, I need to use the bathroom first. Pregnancy bladder.” She gave him a weak smile. “Can you wait here? I’ll just be a minute.”

“Sure. Want me to come with you?”

“No, I’m fine. Just wait here.”

Dorothy went inside and found a bathroom. She locked herself in a stall and pressed her hands to her face. Her heart was hammering. This was it—the moment she’d been dreading.

She couldn’t take Jake into an actual ultrasound appointment. Couldn’t risk him talking to real doctors, asking questions, being part of a legitimate medical visit.

She waited five minutes, then came back out. Jake was exactly where she’d left him, scrolling on his phone.

“Hey,” she said. “I just got a text from the imaging center. They’re running really behind. Like over an hour.”

Jake’s face fell. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. And I’m feeling kind of dizzy. I don’t think I can wait that long standing around.” Dorothy pressed her hand to her forehead. “Do you have to get back to work?”

“I took the whole afternoon off.”

“I know, but…” Dorothy looked up at him apologetically. “Would you mind if I rescheduled? Maybe I could come back during my lunch break next week, when it’s less busy. You wouldn’t have to take time off again.”

“But I want to be there. I want to see the baby with you.”

“I know. But we’ll have so many appointments. And you’ve already taken today off.” Dorothy squeezed his hand. “I just really don’t feel good. I think I need to go home.”

Jake’s expression shifted from disappointment to concern. “Okay. Yeah, of course. Let me get you home.”

“Actually, I drove myself, remember? You met me here.”

“Right. Do you want me to drive you? I can come back for my car later.”

“No, I’m okay. I just need to lie down.” Dorothy kissed his cheek. “I’m sorry. I know you were excited.”

“Don’t apologize. If you’re not feeling well, that’s what matters.” Jake pulled her into a hug. “Just reschedule soon, okay? I want to know everything’s okay.”

“I will. I promise.”

Dorothy drove home alone, her hands shaking on the steering wheel. That had been too close. She couldn’t keep doing this—couldn’t keep narrowly avoiding situations where Jake would discover the truth.

At home, she called Mercy General and actually scheduled an appointment for her lunch break next week. Just in case Jake asked to see confirmation.

Then she lay on the couch and stared at the ceiling, her hand on the fake bump.

In four and a half months, she’d have to produce an actual baby. And she still had no idea how.

A week later, Dorothy went to the print shop during her lunch break. The stolen ultrasound images were on a USB drive in her pocket. She had thirty minutes.

She printed them on glossy photo paper, the same kind the hospital used. Four images—profile, hand, feet, spine. They looked perfect. Real. Professional.

She paid in cash and drove back to work, the photos carefully tucked in her purse.

That evening, she got home before Jake. She placed the photos on the kitchen counter like she’d just brought them in from the car.

When Jake arrived twenty minutes later, she was making dinner.

“How was your day?” he asked, kissing her cheek.

“Good. Oh, I had my ultrasound during lunch. The rescheduled one.” Dorothy gestured to the counter. “Pictures are right there.”

Jake’s eyes widened. He crossed to the counter immediately and picked up the first photo.

“Oh my God,” he whispered. “Dot.”

Dorothy watched him look through each image, saw his eyes get wet, saw him trace the tiny features with his finger.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were going today? I would have tried to come.”

“I know. But it was just a quick lunch break thing. I didn’t want you to have to rush.” Dorothy moved beside him. “The tech said everything looks perfect. All the measurements are right on track.”

“Did you find out the s*x?”

“No. I told them we want to be surprised.”

Jake held up the profile picture, staring at it. “This is our baby. I can see its little nose.”

Dorothy looked at the stolen image. At someone else’s baby, someone else’s twenty-week scan. “Yeah.”

“We’re really doing this.” Jake set the photos down and pulled her into a hug. “We’re going to be parents.”

Dorothy held onto him, feeling the weight of the lie pressing down on her. She needed to know something. Needed to hear him say it.

“Jake,” she said quietly. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Are you happy? That you stayed?”

He pulled back to look at her. “What? Of course I am. Why would you ask that?”

“I just—” Dorothy’s voice was small. “I need to know if you’re here because you want to be, or because you feel like you have to be. Because of the baby.”

“Dot.” Jake’s hands cupped her face. “I’m here because I want to be. The baby made me stop and think, yeah, but I’m not staying just because you’re pregnant.”

“You’re not?”

“No. I’m staying because I love you. Because we’re working on things. Because I want this life with you.”

Dorothy searched his face. “But what if something happened? What if—what if I lost the baby? Would you still stay?”

Jake’s expression shifted to alarm. “Did the doctor say something? Is something wrong?”

“No, everything’s fine. I just—” Dorothy felt tears building. “I’m scared you’ll leave. That the only reason you’re here is because of the baby, and if there wasn’t a baby—”

“Stop.” Jake pulled her close again. “There is a baby. Right there.” He gestured to the ultrasound photos. “And even if there wasn’t—which there is—I would still be here. You’re my person, Dot. Baby or no baby.”

Dorothy wanted to believe him. Wanted to think that if she told him the truth right now—that there was no baby, that she’d lied about everything—he’d understand. He’d forgive her. He’d stay.

But she knew better.

She’d seen his face when he looked at those ultrasound photos. The joy. The love. The future he saw in those stolen images.

If she told him the truth, that would all disappear. And he’d leave.

Just like everyone always left.

“Okay,” Dorothy whispered. “I believe you.”

Jake kissed her forehead and went to put the photos on the fridge, next to the first ultrasound. Two fake babies, displayed for everyone to see.

“I’m sending these to my mom right now,” he said, taking photos with his phone. “She’s going to lose her mind. Look at those tiny feet!”

Dorothy watched him, so happy, so convinced. She thought about what he’d said—that he was staying for her, not just the baby.

She didn’t believe it.

But it didn’t matter. In four and a half months, she’d have to produce an actual baby. And she was running out of time to figure out how.

The thought that had been growing in the back of her mind pushed forward again. The dark thought. The impossible thought.

There were women who came through the maternity ward alone. Scared. Saying they weren’t ready.

Women whose babies might not be missed right away.

Dorothy pushed the thought away, horrified at herself.

But it came back.

It always came back.