Chapter 2 - Cold Stone Floor
The porcelain plate slipped from Emilia’s numb fingers, crashing against the hardwood floor with a deafening crack that shattered the silence between them. Neither moved to pick up the razor-sharp shards scattering across their feet.
In the living room, music swelled as someone turned up the stereo. Laughter rolled down the corridor, oblivious to the emotional bloodbath unfolding mere yards away.
"Answer me, Julian," she whispered, her voice hardening with an icy fury that replaced the tears. "Did the clinic make a catastrophic mistake during the embryo transfer... or did you deliberately switch the donor without telling me?"
Julian felt the room tilting violently. The polished marble walls seemed to close in around him. He took a staggering step backward, his back hitting the refrigerator door. The guilt that had gnawed at his insides for seven months finally ripped completely through his composure.
"Emilia, listen to me," he gasped, his palms raised outward in desperate surrender. "You don't understand the circumstances. Dr. Ramos warned me three days before the final procedure. My sample was completely non-viable. He told me the necrosis had destroyed everything. It was our last round. Your body couldn't endure another hormone cycle."
Emilia took a step forward, ignoring the ceramic fragment piercing the sole of her slipper. Blood welled beneath the fabric, but she seemed beyond physical pain. "You made a unilateral decision about the flesh growing inside my body? You forged my consent?"
"I wanted to protect you!" Julian choked out, tears finally spilling over his dark lashes. "You spent months in the psychiatric ward after the third miscarriage! If I told you I was permanently sterile, it would have destroyed you! I chose an anonymous, pre-screened profile from the highest tier—"
"You lied!" she screamed, the sound tearing through the apartment.
The living room fell instantly dead silent. The music abruptly cut off. Heavy footsteps approached the entrance of the kitchen hallway.
Sofia appeared at the corner, holding an empty martini glass, her sharp eyes scanning the broken plate, Emilia's bloody slipper, and Julian's weeping face.
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"Is everything alright in here?" Sofia asked smoothly, her eyes narrowing as she spotted the opened medical file on the island. "Or should I ask our guests to leave early?"
Emilia didn't look at Sofia. She kept her burning gaze locked onto her husband. "He didn't use an anonymous donor, Sofia. Did you, Julian?"
