“Sir, I found your son beside the dumpster outside your mansion,” a soaking wet little girl said as she handed over a crying baby wrapped in a black trash bag. The billionaire, declared sterile twelve years earlier, didn’t panic. He stared into the child’s eyes and asked, “Who sent you here to play this sick game?” The little girl pointed a trembling finger at the top of the grand staircase, whispering, “The lady who told us to throw him away.”
the chill in my own voice matching the storm outside. “Nor am I capable of having them.”
The child did not flinch. She pulled the heavy plastic layer of the makeshift swaddle closer to her collarbone, her large, dark eyes locking onto mine with a fierce, ancient defiance. “Then someone desperately wanted you to believe that you could.”
