I clutched my stillborn daughter, her body still warm, and collapsed forward, howling into the sheets. Benedict had promised me—if it was a boy, Lawrence. If it was a girl, Layla.
Now I couldn't even keep my child, and the name had been given to someone else.
A long time passed.
Benedict strolled in, smiling carelessly as he brushed the hair from my forehead. "You're awake? Sweetheart, you worked so hard, giving me such a beautiful daughter. Here—a little something for your trouble."
He pressed a small cash gift into my hand. I glanced past him and saw the baby in the bassinet beside the neighboring bed. That was when I realized—Benedict had it wrong. He thought the other woman's baby was mine.
"Benedict, don't you have anything to explain to me?"
He blinked, caught off guard. "Babe, I swear there's nothing between me and Vivian."
"I know you're still upset that she and I had a child together, but she went through labor for my sake. I have to take responsibility for her."
I opened my mouth to speak again, but a pained cry from Vivian's room pulled his attention away.
At the same moment, a nurse walked in carrying a small urn. She frowned, glancing between me and Benedict.
"This is—"