Chapter 3

A few days later, Chloe was still in the hospital. The baby, they called him Leo, slept in a clear bassinet beside her bed.

Her phone rang. She glanced at the caller ID.

"Father Michael?" she said, a slight frown on her face.

She answered. "Hello, Father."

I drifted closer. Father Michael, from St. Michael' s Parish. Our parish.

I used to go there, pray for Chloe when she was sick before the transplant. Prayed for our future, for a child we hoped to have one day.

"Chloe, my dear," his kind voice came through the phone. "I was just calling... I found something here. It' s a St. Christopher medal. Ethan had it blessed a long time ago. He said it was for your child, for protection."

My heart, if I still had one, ached. I remembered that day. Chloe was so ill. I' d clung to any hope.

Chloe' s face was unreadable.

"Oh," she said. "That' s... thoughtful of him."

Her tone was dismissive.

"He loved you very much, Chloe. And he was so looking forward to being a father."

"Yes, well," Chloe said, a new hardness in her voice. "Things change, Father. Liam is Leo' s father. And Liam was the one who saved my life, who gave me his kidney. Ethan... Ethan wasn' t honest about a lot of things."

Liar. She was the one steeped in lies, fed by Liam.

"Liam was your donor?" Father Michael sounded surprised. "I... I thought Ethan..."

"No, Father. It was Liam. A true act of love. Ethan just... liked the attention, I suppose."

She hung up.

She looked at the sleeping baby.

"Your father is a hero, Leo," she whispered. "Not Ethan. Never Ethan."

I wanted to rage. To tell her the truth.

But I was just a silent shadow, watching her rewrite our history, my love painted as a lie.

The St. Christopher medal. I' d chosen it carefully. For our child.

Now, it was just another piece of a past she was determined to bury.