The word vasectomy hit the marble foyer like a grenade.
For three seconds, the only sound was the ticking of the grandfather clock and the sharp intake of breath from the lawyers.
Lysander blinked, his face going slack with a stupidity that would have been comical if he weren't so dangerous. He looked at me, then at Elara, whose hands were still clutching her flat stomach.
"What?" he whispered.
"I said," I enunciated clearly, enjoying every syllable, "it’s a miracle. Divine intervention, really."
I pulled my phone from my clutch. My fingers flew across the screen, pulling up a cached email from three years ago. I turned the screen toward Lysander.
"Dr. Aris. November 12th. The invoice for the procedure," I read aloud, holding the digital receipt up like a weapon. "I remember because
