I did not yet know the half of what that room contained.

But I knew, at cruising altitude with my new wife going pale beside me, that the man who raised me had done something in that hospital that no amount of family or future or merger could ever make anything but monstrous.

Chapter 10 — That Little Girl

Isabela saw my face and quietly took the phone from my hands.

As her eyes moved across the photo, the color drained from her lips.

“My God,” she whispered.