A wave of nausea rolled through me.
“Oh my God.”
My voice barely existed.
“You switched them.”
He didn’t deny it.
I lunged toward him.
Not to injure him.
Just enough to shove him backward.
“You let me nurse another woman’s baby.”
“Hannah—”
“You let me name her.”
I suddenly stopped moving.
Then I asked quietly,
“Save it from what?”
That was when the rest of the truth began spilling out.
Not all at once.
Piece by piece.
Each revelation uglier than the one before.
His parents had been running out of money for months.
His father’s trust depended on appearances.
Legacy.
Grandchildren.
A stable, respectable family image.
Meanwhile, we had been drowning in debt I never fully knew existed.
Bad investments.
Hidden credit lines.
Minimum payments shuffled around month after month just to delay disaster.
Then there was Nicole.
The affair had resulted in a pregnancy he desperately wanted to hide.
When our daughter was born dead, Daniel saw an opportunity.
Nicole had delivered a perfectly healthy baby girl.
I had already prepared pink blankets, birth announcements, and a nursery waiting for our daughter.
His parents expected proof that their perfect son had produced the perfect family.
So while he supposedly took Max to get apple juice…
He met Nicole in a quiet hospital corridor.
A newborn exchanged for a lie.
I kept backing away until my shoulders hit the wall.
“You sold our daughter’s death,” I said.
He winced.
“Don’t say it like that.”
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