The silence after that is so complete you hear the refrigerator hum.
Luis stares at the screen.
Then at Karla’s stomach.
“Is it mine?”
She does not answer fast enough.
That is the answer.
Your knees weaken.
Not because of Karla.
Because of your son.
For all his cruelty, laziness, and entitlement, he is still your child, and you have just watched his life split open in front of you. You want to protect him from the pain. That old instinct rises like a ghost.
Then you remember the kibble.
The movers.
Confused.
No.
Pain does not erase responsibility.
Luis sits down slowly.
“Karla,” he says again, voice hollow. “Is the baby mine?”
She wipes her face.
“I don’t know.”
There it is.
The secret.
Not only the pregnancy.
Not only the senior home.
Karla and Daniel had been using Luis’s entitlement as a ladder. Luis thought he was moving you out so he could inherit the house for his new family. Karla was helping him because she planned to replace him the moment the house was secured.
