“Elena, wait—” Julian’s voice had a strange, desperate edge. But I didn’t stop. I walked out of that conference room, out of that building, and into the fresh air. The girls were waiting at my sister’s condo, suitcases packed, backpacks stuffed with their favorite books. We were really doing this.
Meanwhile, an hour later, Julian and his entire family were gathered in a plush ultrasound suite at the city’s best private hospital. Celeste was lying on the bed, her stomach covered in gel. The screen glowed with the grainy, black-and-white image of the baby. Julian’s mother Victoria was clutching her pearls, practically weeping with joy. Olivia was filming on her phone. His father Robert was grinning like he’d already won some genetic lottery. And Julian stood closest to the bed, holding Celeste’s hand, watching the screen with a proud, possessive smile.
“There’s the spine,” the technician said, moving the wand. “Perfect.”
“And there’s the heart. Four chambers. Strong.”