He had cropped himself and the babies out.
Only I remained: pale, swollen, and four days postpartum beneath the unforgiving hospital entrance lights.
The file name was BEFORE_OPTION_A.
I closed the laptop and ran to the bathroom.
I did not get sick. I stood over the sink until my breathing slowed, then looked at myself in the mirror.
My stomach was softer than it had been. A purple line still ran beneath my navel. My breasts were sore. My eyes looked older than they had two months ago.
But behind the closed bathroom door, I could hear Nora making the small chirping sounds she made before waking.
This body had carried her.
It had carried Owen and Eli beside her.
It had endured months of monitoring, a complicated delivery, and six weeks of waking for three separate feeding schedules.
Grant had looked at the same body and seen an opening slide.
When I returned to the laptop, there was another email from Hannah.
I want to be clear that I did not know you had not personally consented. I have escalated the file to our compliance director. No photography or publication is authorized while the review is open.
She had also included part of the internal email chain.
Tessa had written three weeks earlier:
If Laurel genuinely wants to participate, her story could anchor the pilot. We need her direct confirmation before any filming.
Grant replied:
She is completely on board but self-conscious on camera. Let me handle the forms and scheduling so she doesn’t talk herself out of it.
Tessa answered:
I still need a signed release and verbal reconfirmation on shoot day.
Grant’s final response was one word.
Handled.
Tessa had been cruel at dinner. She had participated in the pressure and was willing to benefit from my humiliation. But the emails proved she had not known he signed my name.
Grant had lied to her too.
