He Forced Me To Abort Now He Begs Me Back Chapter 19
The first supervised visit was scheduled for a week later.
The room was lined with soft floor mats, and bright cartoon animals were painted on the walls. A camera was mounted in the corner, and the supervisor sat just outside the glass door, recording everything.
Evan arrived twenty minutes early.
When I carried Aurora in, he shot to his feet so fast he knocked his chair askew.
“She’s so small.”
His voice shook.
I didn’t answer. I just handed the diaper bag with the bottle, diapers, and extra clothes to the supervisor.
Evan held out his hands.
The moment Aurora was in his arms, her little face scrunched up and she started to wail.
His whole body went rigid.
“Why is she crying?”
“She’s sleepy,” I said.
“What should I do?”
I looked at him.
Back at our dining table, he hadn’t spared my prenatal appointment slip a second glance.
Now, finally, he was asking what to do.
But the question had come far too late.
The supervisor stepped in and showed him how to support Aurora’s head and rock her gently.
He followed her instructions carefully.
A few minutes later, Aurora’s cries gradually quieted. Evan looked down at her, and a tear suddenly fell onto her blanket.
“I’m sorry.”
I didn’t know who he was apologizing to.
When the hour was up, the supervisor reminded him it was time to hand the baby back to me.
He held her a little tighter.
“Five more minutes.”
“The visit is over,” the supervisor said firmly.
Only then did he let go.
I took Aurora back. The moment she was in my arms, she settled against me, her body relaxing at my familiar scent.
Evan stayed where he was, staring at her tiny face.
“What’s her name?”
“Aurora.”
“I know,” he said softly. “I mean—does she have a middle name?”
“No.”
His mouth opened, then closed again.
I knew what he wanted to ask—why she didn’t have the Cole family name anywhere.
But in the end, he didn’t dare.
As I carried Aurora toward the door, he said suddenly, “My mom just really wants to see her. Can’t you stop dragging her into this?”
I stopped.
“She’s the one who sent the threatening text.”
“She was angry.”
“And the statement forcing me to say the video was a misunderstanding—the one she had a lawyer draft? That was her, too.”
A flicker of shame crossed Evan’s face.
“She’s still Aurora’s grandmother.”
I looked back at him.
“Blood is not a get-out-of-jail-free card.”
When I walked out of the visitation center, I saw a familiar black car in the parking lot.
Diane was in the driver’s seat.
Through the window, she was holding up her phone, the camera aimed directly at Aurora in my arms.
The supervisor, walking ahead of me, saw her.
She recognized Diane, then glanced down at the temporary order in her hand.
Without a word, she took out her phone and called security.