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Chapter 3: The Cold Truth

Mark hovered over the unconscious woman, his chest heaving. "What were you doing?" he hissed, his voice shaking with a mix of fury and disbelief. Sarah was inconsolable, her sobs rhythmically syncopated with the baby’s desperate cries. The nursery, once a sanctuary of soft pastels and lullabies, felt like a crime scene. Mark reached into his waistband, his fingers closing around the cold, hard grip of his concealed firearm.

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