Shotgun Wedding
Then he added, almost as an afterthought:
“Did you know Rebecca was pregnant when she died?”
My world stopped.
“It’s in the document,” he said. “Last page.”
My fingers felt foreign as I flipped through the file again. And there, at the very end, was the test result.
Rebecca.
Two months pregnant.
I remembered the morning sickness. The pale skin. The shakes. I’d thought it was the cancer.
My stomach turned.
“And the story Rebecca was imprisoned for?” I asked, desperate for something, anything, to contradict him.
“Since you left prison, have you seen it reported anywhere?” Gordon countered. “Rebecca killing her stepmother. Stabbing her stepsister. Pleading guilty.” He shrugged. “Go on. G****e i
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