Steven paused for a brief moment after Patricia's scream echoed through the phone, and when he spoke again, his voice was cold, deliberate, and utterly unmoved by the raw emotion she had just poured out toward him."Even your screaming won't do anything to change my mind," he said flatly. "It won't make me think twice about what I already know to be true, and it certainly won't make me feel any sympathy for whatever story you're trying to sell me right now, because one thing is perfectly clear, and one thing is absolutely obvious—I do not believe you."Patricia's breath caught in her throat, but Steven continued without pause, his words cutting through her like blades."You're just trying to manipulate the situation so that you don't have to deliver what was promised. You're trying to avoid providing the formula by inventing some absurd, impossible story about your dead daughter suddenly reappearing out of nowhere. Do you honestly think this is something you and your family can just j

The coffee shop had grown quieter in the minutes following Jeremy and Mia's departure, the low hum of ambient chatter and clinking cups now feeling distant and unreal to Patricia, as though she had been dropped into some other version of the world where nothing made sense anymore. She sat frozen at the same corner table, her hands resting limply on her lap, her eyes fixed on nothing in particular, her mind replaying the same handful of seconds over and over again—Mia's face, Mia's voice, Mia's small hand pulling away from her own.She barely registered the sound of the door chime when it rang.She barely noticed the two figures rushing across the room toward her, their footsteps hurried, their voices already calling out her name before they had even reached the table.It was only when her mother's hand touched her shoulder that Patricia finally blinked, her vision refocusing slowly, as though she were surfacing from somewhere deep underwater."Patricia," her mother said, crouching sli

She was already moving to end the call, her thumb hovering over the screen, when the voice on the other end cut through urgently, forcing her to pause. It was her secretary—a colleague who also worked as a doctor within the same hospital, someone Patricia's mother trusted deeply for both her competence and her discretion. "I'm sorry to interrupt," the secretary said, her voice tight with urgency. "But an emergency has just come up. A very serious emergency." Patricia's mother's brow furrowed immediately. "What kind of emergency?" "It's the governor's mother," the secretary continued. "She has suddenly developed new symptoms, and they require urgent medical attention. Her condition has changed rapidly within the last hour. I've been trying to reach Dr. Patricia directly, but she isn't answering her phone. That's why I called you instead." Patricia's mother's grip on the phone tightened, her knuckles whitening slightly as the weight of the situation settled over her. "Please,

Patricia remained seated for another few seconds, silent and unmoving.She looked drained in a way that went beyond physical exhaustion. There was anger in her face, yes, but also defeat. Frustration. Emptiness. It was the expression of someone who had spent all her emotional strength trying to make people understand something they had already decided not to hear.Her mother watched her carefully.“Patricia,” she said more softly, “go with your father. Get to the hospital. We will sort the rest out.”Patricia did not answer, she simply pushed herself to her feet.The movement was slow, almost mechanical, as though her body were obeying instructions her mind had not fully agreed to. She stood there for a second, her expression hard and distant, then turned and began walking toward the exit without another word.Her father immediately moved after her.“I’ll take her,” he said to his wife.His wife nodded quickly. “Go. I’ll handle Stephen.”Patricia did not look back.She walked out of t

But Patricia had mentioned one thing that lingered.Jeremy had come with a child.And if there was even the smallest chance that Jeremy had orchestrated some cruel emotional manipulation involving a child, even one who merely resembled Mia, then Patricia’s mother needed to know.That was when another thought surfaced.Today of all days, this particular date.She knew enough about Jeremy’s habits, enough about the patterns that grief carves into people, to remember one detail clearly: there were places he associated with Mia, rituals that had likely become permanent scars in the structure of his life. And there was one especially obvious place that came to her mind.The children’s park.A particular park, one Mia had loved, where Jeremy used to take her after certain appointments and on special afternoons, where laughter and sugar and sunlight once made up a part of their ordinary routine before everything had gone wrong.If Jeremy had taken a child anywhere after the coffee shop—if he