Caroline unfolded the paper and held it flat against her palm.

“This is a postal receipt for a certified envelope sent to your corporate desk on Westminster Street ten years ago,” Caroline said.

“It held the prenatal records and the clinic’s confirmation of triplets.”

Sloane stepped forward, her heels silent on the Persian rug.

She smoothed her lace sleeve with a slow, deliberate motion of her thumb.

“May I see that, Caroline?” Sloane asked.

Caroline handed the paper to Sloane without looking at Grant.