The room erupted into a cacophony of gasps and whispers, disbelief echoing off the cathedral walls. Isabella’s face drained of color, the mask of bridal perfection cracking in an instant. Panic flickered in her eyes as she glanced around, desperately seeking an escape from the suffocating scrutiny.
“Mark, please,” she pleaded, her voice a desperate whisper that barely cut through the shocked murmurs. “Can we talk about this in private?”
But there was no turning back now. I could feel the weight of the twins in my arms, the reality of their existence grounding me in a way that nothing else ever had. These were lives, my potential children, stolen and hidden away under a sinister cloud of lies.
