“I just wanted to take Clara out for dinner,” she stammered, her voice quivering. “I don’t even know what I did wrong. She got angry and… and told someone to hurt my child…”
The little girl pointed directly at me, sobbing, “Bad woman! You bully my mom! I hate you! I hate you! You killed your own child!”
I froze. My throat constricted so tightly I could barely breathe. Before I could respond, Damian’s face darkened. He stepped between us, his posture protective, as though I were the threat.
“You’ve had a child before, Clara!” His words sliced through me like ice. “Why can’t you show even a little kindness to another one?”
The blow hit harder than any slap could.
Yes, I’d had a child—my baby, my little girl who used to squeal with delight whenever Damian tossed her in the air. The girl he once cradled so gently, placing soft kisses on my forehead and whispering, “Thank you for completing my life.”
And then he destroyed everything.
Voices rose behind him.
“Isn’t that Clara? The one who went to prison?”
“She used to boast about being a brilliant doctor. Couldn’t even save her own kid.”
“Imagine… killing your own daughter. What a monster.”