Nobody could have predicted what was hiding behind closed doors… (Continue to Part 3 →)
“Ethan, what are you saying?” I asked, my voice trembling. “What does this mean?” He avoided my gaze, staring out the window at the grey Bellmere sky. “It means… it means I can’t. I can’t raise a child with that mark. It’s… it’s a curse.” Vanessa’s sobs intensified. “A curse?
That’s ridiculous! It’s just a birthmark!” “No, Vanessa, you don’t understand. My father… he always said it brought bad luck. That Silas was… unstable. That the mark was a sign.” He ran a hand through his hair, his face pale and drawn. “I promised myself I’d never let that happen again.”
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The financial strain of years of failed IVF treatments suddenly clicked into sharp focus. They hadn’t just wanted a child; they needed one. A legacy. But Ethan’s fear, passed down through generations, outweighed everything. He’d asked me, his twin, his sister, to carry his child, knowing my son Noah gave me the experience. He hadn’t anticipated *this*. The questions swirled: Had he known about the genetic possibility? Had he concealed his fears from Vanessa? And what would happen now?
