In my arms, my daughter let out a feeble whimper. Something inside me snapped.
"Make him come back! She needs help! This is his own daughter! Rebecca, you'll pay for this!"
Rebecca just laughed, her voice dripping with contempt.
"Honestly? It'd be better if she died. Victor's going to have a new child anyway."
Click.
The line went dead.
I stood there in the bitter wind, clutching my daughter as her body went limp in my arms. The hatred that surged through me in that moment—it eclipsed even my terror.
Victor. Rebecca.
If anything happens to my daughter tonight, I will bury your entire family with her.
In the end, that ambulance with its flashing blue lights became the regret I would carry for the rest of my life.
The doctor emerged from the ER, pulled down his mask, and shook his head.
The world didn't collapse. It simply went silent. Completely, utterly silent.
I didn't cry. I just felt something blunt push into my chest and start sawing back and forth until the pain turned to numbness.
I went through the motions mechanically—paperwork, selecting a burial plot, arranging the cremation.
Every form required a family member's signature. The pen trembled so violently in my hand I could barely write.