The nurse handed me my newborn baby, but my husband slapped the child out of my arms. “That thing isn’t mine!” he roared. “I’m leaving you and taking all the money!” He emptied my purse on the floor and stomped on my phone so I couldn’t call for help. An hour later, his knees hit the floor…
The nurse placed my son in my arms like he was made of sunlight—warm, wrinkled, and blinking at a world he didn’t understand. “He’s perfect, Mrs. Carter,” she whispered. Mark didn’t smile. He stared at the baby’s face as if he were searching for something to hate. Then his hand shot out. The slap wasn’t…