A woman’s voice.
The guest room faced the courtyard, and morning light had turned the curtains pale gold. For a disoriented second, Vanessa forgot the baby. Then memory struck, and she sat up so fast the room spun.
The voices came from the living room.
Low. Urgent.
“You have to tell her,” the woman said. “You can’t keep lying.”
Eric answered, “I know.”
“You said that three days ago.”
“I didn’t expect her home last night.”
“Then tell her now.”
“I need the DNA results first.”
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