The nurse’s warning whispered in my ear still haunted me: “Ask your son what happened at 3:00 AM.” Moments later, I eavesdropped on his panicked phone call on the fire escape: “If the police find out, we’re ruined.” My hands shook as I unlocked his briefcase in his office. The horrific adoption contract inside changed everything…
into my pocket. I needed air. Real air, not this recycled hospital oxygen.
I turned and pushed through the heavy fire doors leading to the stairwell. As the door swung shut behind me, cutting off the hospital noise, another sound drifted up from the landing below.
A voice. Pleading, desperate, breaking with tears.
