The bright white house stood silent at the end of the long driveway. Once, it had been full of laughter and life, but today, the only sound was the soft creak of the wooden porch steps as Alexander Porter sank down onto them, shoulders hunched, hands trembling. He wore a crisp light pink shirt and black trousers, but his eyes were hollow, sunken with grief. He hadn’t slept in days.
Before him on the porch rested a small, gleaming wooden coffin. Open. Inside, swaddled in a pale blanket, lay the tiny body of his newborn son the child that should have saved him, the child that had cost him everything.
Alexander was only thirty-three, but already a self-made millionaire. In just a few short years, he had built one of the largest real estate firms in the city. But none of that mattered to him anymore not now. Three days ago, his beautiful wife, Clara, had gone into labor. It was supposed to be the happiest day of their lives. They had waited years for this….Read Full Story Here.…………………..
