Six Bikers Walked Out Of The Maternity Ward With My Dead Sister’s Newborn Baby

“She should have asked me.” My voice cracked. “I would have taken him. I would have raised him.”

Thomas nodded slowly. “She knew that. But Catherine… can I be honest with you?”

“Please.”

“Sarah loved you. But she barely knew you. You moved away when she was fifteen. You called maybe twice a month. You didn’t know she was homeless. Didn’t know she was on drugs. Didn’t know she almost died three times before Marcus found her.”

Each word was a knife in my chest. Because it was true. All of it.

“We knew,” Thomas continued. “We were there. We held her when she was detoxing. We sat with her through the nightmares. We celebrated when she got her GED. We cried with her when Marcus died.”

“We’re not strangers to that little boy, Catherine. We’re the only family Sarah had for the last three years.”

William spoke up. He was the oldest, gray beard down to his chest. “Would you like to see the nursery? Sarah helped decorate it. Picked out every piece of furniture. Every toy.”

I didn’t want to. But I followed them anyway.

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