The envelope lay open on the dining table, the sonogram still staring back at us like a threat dressed in grayscale.

Same blurry black-and-white grain. Same curved shape. Except it wasn’t ours.

The name printed on the upper corner didn’t match mine.

And the date,just four weeks prior.

Adrian didn’t speak for a long time. He kept staring at the image like he was trying to pull truth from shadows.

“She’s bluffing,” I whispered, though my voice wasn’t steady. “She must ...