The last page was thicker than the others.
At first, I thought it was just another receipt, another photograph, another sharp piece of Hannah’s perfect evidence. My hands were already trembling so badly that the paper rattled when I pulled it free.
Then I saw the hospital logo.
Baylor Medical Center.
My throat tightened.
It was a printed record from the night Grace was born.
Not the birth certificate.
Not a bill.
A visitor log.
My name appeared at the top. Trevor Mitchell. Father. Checked in at 7:12 p.m.
Below it was Hannah’s name.
And then Vanessa’s.
My blood turned cold.
I stared at the page, blinking, trying to make sense of what I was seeing.
Vanessa Reed. Visitor. Checked in at 9:43 p.m.
That was impossible.
Vanessa had never come to the hospital.
At least, that was what I had believed.
I remembered that night too clearly. Hannah had been in labor for nearly eighteen hours. She was exhausted, pale, gripping my hand so tightly I thought my fingers might break. When Grace finally arrived, tiny and red-faced and furious at the world, I cried like a man who still had a soul.
“Click here to read the full story”.
