Ava's POV
The nursery floated about me, the beautiful blue background with silver stars fading into meaningless forms. My breath was hitched, shallow, and harsh. Two cradles. Two babies. Two cries.
Both boys looked very similar. Curly, black hair. Fair skin. Tiny fists were waving aimlessly in the air.
They both reached for me.
Both called me "Mommy" in the only language a newborn understood: the searing, desperate howl of yearning.
I took back a step, thudding against the dresser behind me. My legs threatened to give up. This was not possible.
This was not real.
But it was.
Rachel's twisted reality, including drugs, hypnosis, and fabricated memories, had deeply rooted within me. I couldn't tell which child was truly mine. I reached for the first baby, "Liam," and he grasped
