The world tilted. My knees nearly buckled as I watched my own daughter—the child I’d carried for nine months, nursed through countless sleepless nights, sang to sleep with lullabies—call another woman Mommy.
“Ava,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “Baby, it’s me. It’s… it’s Mama.”
My daughter looked at me with polite confusion, the same way she might look at a stranger on the street.
“I’m sorry, miss. Do you know my mommy and daddy?”
The knife in my chest twisted deeper. Damon had replaced me so completely that my own daughter didn’t recognize me.
“Get out.” Damon’s voice was cold, emotionless, as he stood and pulled on his pants. “You weren’t supposed to be here, Elise.”
