His face drained of color. His hand trembled so badly the pen slipped to the floor. His usually composed expression broke as his eyes filled with tears. He wasn’t looking at the baby as a whole—he was staring at a small birthmark beneath the child’s left ear, shaped like a dark crescent.
“Doctor?” the nurse asked, startled. “Is something wrong?”
He didn’t answer her. Instead, his voice—unsteady, filled with something raw—turned toward Camila.
“Who is the baby’s father?”
Camila stiffened.
“He doesn’t have one. He left us.”
“I need his name!” the doctor insisted, urgency filling the room.
Caught off guard by the desperation in his eyes, she hesitated, then answered:
“Lucas. Lucas Bennett.”
The doctor stepped back, covering his face as a broken sob escaped him. No one in that room could have imagined what was coming next.
The delivery room fell into a suffocating silence. Camila clutched the sheets, her heart pounding. Dr. Michael Bennett—respected, unshakable—collapsed to his knees beside her bed, his shoulders trembling as he cried openly.
“Lucas Bennett…” he whispered, lifting tear-filled eyes. “He’s my son.”
Camila felt the air leave her lungs.