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.”

silence. We froze, holding our breath, waiting for a shout or a gunshot. Nothing came.

We slipped inside.

The air down here was thick, smelling of mildew, stagnant water, and… peppermint. The scent hit my olfactory nerves like a physical blow. We were on the right track.

The corridor was lined with decrepit ceramic tiles, peeling away from the walls like continue reading …