Serena walked past me without a backward glance, Kyle leaning against her side.
Two hours later, the doctor emerged from the emergency room. He shook his head.
I ran inside like a madman.
The EKG was a flat line.
Everything I'd buried these past days—every wound, every betrayal—and the grief of losing my only family crashed over me like a flood.
I couldn't hold it in anymore. I clutched my chest and wailed.
Through the haze, a cheerful voice echoed down the hallway:
"Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Gilbert—it's twins!"
I froze. The day I lost my entire family, Serena Gilbert welcomed her own children into the world.
How absurd.
With trembling hands, I dialed a number I hadn't called in years.
Two hours later, I carried my father into the Maybach that had been waiting outside.
On the way, a text came from Serena:
"Is everything okay with Dad? I'll have someone order the newest nursing bed from overseas."
I clenched my fists and closed my eyes.
A month later, when the babies turned one month old, Serena brought them home to an empty house.
She was reaching for her phone when her assistant rushed in: