On the bathroom mirror, written in red lipstick, was a single sentence: “She’s mine, too.”
Rob punched the wall. Mr. Miller grabbed his arm. “Don’t give him what he wants.”
I took a photo of the mirror. Then I saw something in the trash can. A crumpled paper. I pulled it out carefully. It was a hospital discharge note with Valerie’s name and a location scribbled on the back: a warehouse district by the shipping yards.
Damian worked there. I remembered hearing him brag once that down at the yards, you could get anything if you knew who to talk to. He said that place never slept, and it smelled like diesel and sweat and easy money.
We went. Not like in the movies. No running through gunfire. We went with fear, through traffic, with horns blaring, with Reagan crying because it was time for her bottle, and the city swallowing our urgency.
The industrial district was a waking monster. Huge trucks maneuvered like heavy beasts. I stayed in the car with Marisol and Reagan. Rob and Mr. Miller got out. I watched them disappear between the loading docks.
Ten minutes passed. Fifteen. Twenty. Then my phone rang. It was Valerie. I answered with a trembling hand.
“Where are you?”
At first, I only heard breathing. Then her voice. “Sophie… forgive me.” My throat tightened. “Where are you, Valerie?”
“Don’t give Reagan to him.” “To who?” “To Damian. He told me if Rob found out, he was going to take the baby. That he could prove she was his. That he’d say I was crazy. That you stole her from me.”
Reagan let out a whimper. Valerie heard it. “Is she with you?” “Yes.”
Valerie began to cry. But it wasn’t her usual crying. This crying didn’t ask for pity. It was a plea for help.
“I didn’t want this, Sophie. At first, I thought I could hide it. Then Damian started asking for money. He told me if Rob came back and found out, it would destroy him. That it was better to give her to someone else. That you were perfect because you always carried everything.”
It hurt because it was true. I always carried everything. Mom’s burdens. Valerie’s lies. Other people’s guilt.
But not anymore. “Listen to me,” I told her. “You have to get out of wherever you are and come with us.” “I can’t.” “Yes, you can.” “He’s here.”
I looked around. Between the warehouses, I saw Rob appear. He looked shell-shocked. Behind him walked Damian.
Damian was smiling. He didn’t have Valerie. He had her phone in his hand. Everything went cold. “Marisol,” I whispered. “Lock the doors.”
Damian saw the car. He saw me. He saw Reagan. He raised his hand, as if waving to a friend. Rob walked behind him, rigid, as if every step were a fight against himself. Mr. Miller was nowhere to be seen. That scared me more.
Damian reached my window and tapped the glass with his knuckles. “Sister-in-law,” he said, though I didn’t roll down the window. “I just want to see my daughter.”
My daughter. Those two words made me sick. Marisol gripped the screwdriver in her purse. “Don’t you dare roll that down.”
Damian leaned in, grinning. “Sophie, don’t be dramatic. The kid needs her dad. I can recognize her. I can give her my name. Or would you rather she grow up unwanted?”
Rob grabbed him by the shoulder. “Shut up.”
Damian turned slowly. “What? You want to raise her too? Look how modern the little soldier boy turned out.”
