Raising The Child Of My Ruin

ass was cold beneath her fingertips, just like the hollow ache in her chest. It had been ex

reminders of what she had lost. The nursery, once filled with soft lullabies and the scent of ba

ng, she wiped the unshed tears from her eyes and walked to the e

, she open

here

an La

heart years ago. The man she

k coat soaked from the rain. His sharp, chiseled features remained unreadab

left her breathless. It was th

in a pale blue blanket, sleepi

-so innocent, so unaware of the storm surroundi

spoke, his voice low and

ngers curled against the doorframe. "The last time you

e stepped forward, lowering his gaze to the baby i

ll him to go to hell. But her eyes remained locked on the ch

twisted

his voice quieter now. "He's allergic to f

screamed at her to turn him away. To tell him that wha

te was

out to speak, the baby whi

ke that, sh