Right after delivery, my husband smirked at the newborn: “We need a DNA test to be sure it’s mine.” I held the baby tightly, tears in my eyes, and whispered, “Fine, let’s do it.” Days later, the doctor stared at the lab results with a pale face and said, “Ma’am, call the police right now.”

flashlight so tightly my knuckles ached.

We reached the heavy, reinforced door marked Sub-Level 2: Authorized Personnel Only. It was slightly ajar, a sliver of jaundiced yellow light spilling onto the landing. I pressed my back against the cinderblock wall, nudging the door open with my elbow. The hinges shrieked—a deafening sound in the subterranean continue reading …