Monica’s anxiety grew with every word Greg hurled. His voice, sharp and booming, had already begun to draw the attention of the nearby nurses, patients, and hospital staff. People were starting to whisper and glance over.
"Gregory, please," Monica whispered in panic, trying to grasp his arms in an attempt to calm him. "Lower your voice. You’re causing a scene—"
"Don’t you dare touch !" Greg snapped, yanking his arm away as fury surged through him like wildfire. "You think I don’t know what you did? You manipulated that conservatorship behind Cammy’s back! Don’t act like this false concern makes up for it. I’ll never forgive you for that, Monica!"
Monica flinched, her face paling. Eyes darted from every direction now, curious and concerned.
"Greg... stop it," Cammy finally spoke, her voice low but commanding. She glanced around at the growing number of onlookers. "We’re in a hospital, for God’s sake. Can you at least wait until we’re out of here? I’ll explain everything."
"Explain?" Greg barked with disbelief, his chest rising and falling with barely contained rage. "What the fuck are you even saying? How do you expect to not lose my mind when you just threw that at like it was nothing?! That I can’t be involved? That I can’t be the father?! I’ve been trying to contact you for two damn days—worried sick! And this is what I walk into?!"
Cammy sighed heavily, exasperation seeping through her exhausted body. Her eyes stung with tears, but she blinked them back, determined to remain composed. She slowly reached into the pocket of her cardigan and pulled out a folded piece of paper.
She stared straight into Greg’s eyes, forcing herself to et the storm behind them. Her voice was steady, but her hands trembled.
"Fine. You want the truth? I’ll give it to you. But only if you promise to shut your mouth until we leave this hospital. No yelling. No questions. No drama. Just read, and wait."
Greg clenched his jaw, nostrils flaring, but after a tense pause, he gave a sharp nod. "Deal."
Without another word, Cammy extended the paper to him—her hand brushing his as he took it. The DNA test result. The very thing that had sent her spiraling that morning. The truth was written in cold, black ink.
’Let him read it. Let him see it for himself,’ Cammy thought as her heart thudded painfully in her chest. ’Because I don’t have the strength to tell him we’re half-siblings with my own mouth.’
Greg unfolded the paper slowly, the creases whispering secrets that would change everything. His eyes scanned the docunt. One line... then another... and then—
His face went slack.
Everything around them seed to fade into silence, the weight of the truth crashing down on them all like a tidal wave threatening to drown them.
Greg’s eyes stayed glued to the paper, but the words had already blurred.
Richard Cross... Cammy Watson... Paternal match...
His breath hitched. The color drained from his face.
The paper slipped from his hand, floating to the floor like the final blow to a fragile heart. He staggered a step back, his balance failing as the hospital’s white walls seed to spin around him.
Cammy watched, frozen. Her lips parted, but no sound ca out.
Greg clutched his forehead, blinking rapidly as dizziness washed over him. "No... no, this can’t be real..."
"Whoa—easy," Ric said, catching Greg by the arm just as he began to sway. "You’re gonna pass out if you keep going like this."
Ric glanced at Monica, whose hands were trembling by her side. Cammy looked like she could collapse again at any second.
"I think we should head to the car right now," Ric said firmly, tightening his grip on Greg before he could protest.
But Greg was too dazed, too shattered to resist.
Without waiting for his reply, Ric gently turned him around and guided him out of the ergency room. Greg moved like a ghost—his eyes hollow, his mind a storm of disbelief and heartache. He didn’t look back. He couldn’t.
Cammy watched them go, her heart shattering all over again. She clutched her stomach protectively, tears brimming in her eyes but refusing to fall.
Monica stepped forward, placing a trembling hand on her daughter’s shoulder. But Cammy didn’t respond. Her gaze remained fixed on the door where Greg had disappeared, her soul aching with the weight of everything she had lost in just a single day.
And still, deep inside her, the tiny flicker of life—innocent and unaware—grew quietly, untouched by the chaos left in its wake.
A nurse gave Monica the discharge slip and guided her to where she could pay the bill.
Cammy remained seated on the edge of the bed, her hand resting gently on her lower abdon. The tension in the air hadn’t eased, but her mind had gone numb.
She stared blankly at the floor until the sound of approaching footsteps pulled her back to the mont.
The resident doctor returned, prescription slip in hand, her expression softened by understanding.
"Here," she said gently, handing Cammy the paper. "Folic acid, iron supplents, and a mild vitamin B complex. Take them with food. And please... see your OB as soon as possible."
Cammy nodded silently, accepting the paper. The doctor gave her a faint smile, then walked away, leaving the room filled only with the quiet beeping of dical equipnt.
Monica stepped forward hesitantly. "Are you ready to go?" she asked, her voice trembling.
Cammy didn’t answer with words. She stood slowly, folded the prescription into her pocket, and walked toward the door. Monica followed, unsure whether to speak or remain silent. There was too much between them—too many wounds that hadn’t even begun to scab over.
They made their way to the hospital’s front exit and into the dim glow of the moonlight. But the montary calm shattered as they approached the parking lot.
Cammy’s steps faltered when she saw Ric standing beside his car, looking deeply troubled. Greg stood a few feet away—his back toward them, shoulders tense.
And then she saw it...
Greg and his hands... Just how they looked like when they first t.
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