Something hot and corrosive ripped through my chest. I wanted to scream at him, but no sound came out.
The door swung open. A team of doctors filed in.
Every single one of them went straight to Thomas, crowding around the child in his arms.
I lost it.
"That bastard is fine! My daughter is the one who had her bone marrow ripped out of her!"
The doctors froze mid-step. Only Thomas glanced my way.
He set the boy down on the bed with exaggerated care, then looked at me with open irritation.
"After all these years, you still have no class."
"Douglas just came out of surgery. He's fragile right now. What's the rush?"
I stood there, stunned.
By what he said. By what he did.
From the day Lily was born, he had never once shown this kind of devotion.
I could count the number of times he'd held her on one hand.
I'd always assumed he just didn't like children.
Or that, like he used to say when we were young, he loved me more than he could ever love a kid.
Turns out he'd built an entire family on the side.
Turns out he was perfectly capable of tenderness. Just not for us.
I almost laughed.
"Thomas Gilbert, you kidnapped our daughter and had her bone marrow harvested for your bastard son!"