Lucas clutched the paper, cold spreading through his chest like ice. No birth hospital. No date. No proof he was born to Daisy. Only a quiet phrase: intake. He stared at it, breath catching in his throat, and felt the world tilt slightly off its axis.
But he didn’t say anything. Not to Daisy. Not to Robert. Not to Lucy. Instead, he folded the paper back in, shut the drawer, and walked upstairs. At dawn, he packed his bag quietly. Rose was waiting, and the plan was still in place. But now, he had questions—many questions.