Chapter 3 - The Secret in the Envelope
Daniel watched the devastation on my father's face and I saw him close his eyes. He didn't want this. He hadn't wanted to destroy a day of joy. But he couldn't let it continue.
My mother stared at Madison’s midsection, her face a mask of profound shock. "This is a joke, right? Some sick trick you’re playing?" Her voice was a cracked whisper, devoid of its usual energy.
Madison didn't answer. She was too busy plotting. "I had a reason," she began, her voice gaining a desperate, high-pitched edge. "I was going to tell you! It was..."
"Going to tell us when?" Daniel cut her off. "When you cashed the checks? When you left town?"
"Daniel, stop," I said, but the truth was, I needed to know. The backyard was no longer a celebration. It was a courtroom. The "Pink or Blue" banner now felt like a taunt.
I looked at the silicone. My eyes traced the outline. Now that I knew, I couldn't unsee how rigid it looked, how unnaturally perfectly round. And then I noticed it.
The fake belly had shifted slightly when she stood up, pressed against by Daniel's palm. A square, white corner was pressing from inside the silicone contraption, pushing against the fabric of the powder-blue dress. It wasn't a baby moving. It was an object.
Madison saw my gaze shift. She froze again, her grip on her stomach tightening. "No." She lunged for me, trying to block my view. But I was already reaching. Daniel, sensing something, moved between us, giving me the space I needed.
My fingers touched the corner, the hard material of a thick paper envelope. The moment I started pulling it, Madison screamed, a guttural sound that seemed to stop time. "Don't! That's personal!"
I disregarded her. As I pulled the envelope, the sound of the silicone crunching was louder than a gunshot. The guests—what few were still here, most were backing away to the fences in a silent horror—gasped in unison.
The gate to my parents' yard clicked open. A woman in navy scrubs, looking efficient and official, walked in. She wasn't carrying a present. She was holding a large, manila folder against her chest with an air of authority.
May you like
She stopped and looked at the crowd, then at my sister in the fake belly, then at the envelope I had just pulled free, which was now in my hand. Her eyes landed on my father’s still-recording camera.
"Excuse me," she said, her voice clear and professional. "I’m looking for Madison Davis. We have a serious compliance issue. I am from Westbrook Women’s Clinic." She nodded toward the object in my hand. "And I need everyone to step away from that envelope immediately."
