"No, I understand," I murmured into the phone. "Thanks for listening, at least."

I wearily hung up, burying my head in my hands. I'd spent all morning calling in every favor and loan I could, throwing my dignity out the window to beg friends and acquaintances for help.

I'd never considered myself proud, but begging was more challenging than I'd imagined.

I wished I could help Cora, too. She was still waiting to hear if she'd be fired, and although she wasn't supposed to handle samples, she'd gotten permission to run my tests that afternoon. After all, I'd already been inseminated, so her supervisor saw no risk of further negligence.

Still, I was far from excited walking through the sperm bank's front doors. Ten days ago, I'd been heartbroken but optimistic, yearning for a baby more than anything. Now, I dreaded the exam.

My trepidation quickly gave way to surprise. As soon as I entered, I had the strangest feeling Dominic Sinclair was nearby. It took me a while to find him—in a luxurious, glass-walled conference room with Cora's bosses—but I had no idea how I knew he was there. I also didn't understand why I felt drawn to him; after all, he'd ruined both my sister's and my life. I shouldn't have been excited to see him.

It was sheer luck that I stumbled upon him; the conference room was on the way to Cora's office. However, I stopped to observe the meeting. I was speechless when I saw him. Had he become even more attractive since the last time I'd seen him? It was already unfair that someone so powerful and intelligent could be so handsome, but now it felt like a cruel twist of fate. The bastard had a heart of stone, yet the universe showered him with gifts while Cora and I had nothing.

Shaking myself from my trance, I continued down the hall, feeling the weight of his dark eyes on my back. Cora had clearly been crying. Her eyes were red and her cheeks splotchy, though she tried to hide it.

"Hey," I greeted her gently, hugging her. She leaned into me, holding on far longer than usual. "Any news?"

"Sinclair's in there finalizing it now. I'll get my formal termination notice this afternoon," she said, sniffling.

"I'm so sorry, honey," I crooned, rubbing her back.

"It's okay," she lied, pulling away. "How are you doing?"

"Not well," I confessed. "I'm dreading this, to be honest."

"Amazing how fast things change, huh?" she asked, looking as if she might cry. "What are we going to do, Elle?"

"We'll figure it out," I promised. "We've been in tight spots before. Remember the summer we slept in boxes on the street after running away from the orphanage?"

"Yeah," she nodded with a sad smile. "But it's winter now. We won't last long in the elements. And you weren't pregnant then."

"Yeah, well, if I'm pregnant now…" I couldn't look her in the eyes. "I don't think I'm going to stay that way."

"What?" Cora exclaimed, horrified. "But this is your only chance! We're not completely hopeless; you have time to plan."

That phrase reminded me of Mike, and I realized I hadn't told Cora my news. "I can't afford a baby, even if I find a job. I'll be paying off debts for years," I said, explaining Mike and Kate's betrayal.

"I can't believe this!" she burst out. "It's not fair, Ella! I thought we'd paid our dues, that our suffering was over. After everything, we deserve a better future! You deserve to be a mom—no one loves children more than you."

"And you deserve to be a doctor," I replied. "You worked so hard."

"I still don't think you should give up," she frowned. "You can terminate until the end of the first trimester. It would be tragic to abort it, only to find out you could have kept it. Don't take that risk. Keep the baby until the very last moment."

"I don't think miracles happen to people like me," I said softly. "Besides, that seems like its own kind of torture—the longer I carry the baby, the more attached I'll get. I don't want this to hurt more than it has to."

"It's going to hurt no matter what," Cora reasoned. "Give yourself a chance—keep the door open. Don't give up hope."

"Let's just find out if I have to make that decision," I said, changing the subject. "I may not even be pregnant." Even as I said it, I felt in my heart that I was.

"Okay," Cora agreed, taking a sterile cup from a cabinet. "You know what to do."

I took the cup and quickly went to the bathroom, returning almost immediately. I paced as Cora ran the tests. "Well?" I pressed, seeing the results on her computer screen.

She offered a sad smile. "Congratulations, little sister, you're going to have a baby."

I'd told myself I wouldn't fall apart, but as soon as she spoke, I was crying. I'd waited years to hear those words and thought I never would. It was unimaginable joy and unimaginable pain. I never knew my heart could hold such conflicting emotions. "Really?"

"Really," Cora confirmed, hugging me. "Come on, let's do an ultrasound. You can hear the heartbeat."

"Isn't it too early?" I squeaked.

"One of the benefits of being at the finest lab in the country," Cora quipped, the words bittersweet. "Our technology is years ahead of public hospitals."

I climbed onto the exam table, lifted my top, and didn't bother with a gown. Cora wheeled in an ultrasound. Within minutes, the machine emitted a whooshing sound, and Cora applied gel to my tummy. She pressed the wand to my skin, and soon a tiny heartbeat sounded—making me cry again.

Cora frowned. "This is strange. The baby seems awfully large, but we tested you at your last visit to be sure you weren't already pregnant."

"What does that mean?" I asked anxiously. "Is the father just a big guy?"

"I don't just mean size—I mean development," Cora said, studying the images, looking worried. She whispered, more to herself than to me, "It doesn't look human… but that can't be… it's not possible."

"What are you talking about?" I asked. "Isn't it just a tiny blob?"

"As I said, our tech is state-of-the-art. It doesn't just highlight shapes—it analyzes the molecular structure." Before she could continue, the door burst open, startling us. To my shock and horror, Dominic Sinclair stood in the doorway, glaring. "What's the meaning of this?" he demanded.

"What's the meaning of you barging into a private exam?!" I repeated, shocked.

"Because," he declared fiercely, his eyes seeming to glow with rage, "I can smell my pup."