Maya's POV
The hospital corridor smells like antiseptic and desperation. I sit in a plastic chair outside Vanessa's room, staring at my hands. These same hands once held my dying mother. Now they're shaking.
"You don't have to do this," Ethan says beside me. His voice is gentle but firm. "You heard what she said. Hope isn't"
"Don't." I cut him off. "Not here. Not now."
The words hang between us. Hope isn't Derek's daughter. She's Ethan's.
My brain can't process it. Won't process it. There are too many other crises demanding attention. Vanessa tried to kill herself. Derek is in prison. Patricia poisoned me while I was pregnant.
And now this.
"Maya." Ethan takes my hand. "We need to talk about"
"After," I interrupt again. "After we hear what else Vanessa knows. The detective said she has evidence about other crimes. Evidence that could free Derek."
"Derek." Ethan's jaw tightens. "The man who isn't Hope's father."
