“Julian Vance,” I said.

The doctor’s hand tightened around the blanket.

Then the door opened.

And Julian walked in, smiling.

PART 2

“Well,” Julian said, glancing at the baby, then at me, “look at that. She survived.”

Behind him came Eleanor in pearls, heels clicking against the hospital floor. She carried no flowers, no gift, not even a lie of concern.

Her eyes went straight to my son.

“Is this him?” she asked.