I sank onto the edge of my bed, my heart hammering.

Outside, through the open bedroom window, I could hear laughter, soda cans, and the grill where Caleb and our two eighteen-year-old sons, Ethan and Leo, were celebrating with their friends.

I looked back down into the gift box.

Beneath the note lay three items: a state birth certificate, a plastic hospital identification band with a tiny blue clip, and a small USB flash drive.

I pulled out the identification band first.

The faded ink read: BABY BOY THREE – VANCE, C.—the exact tag from Julian’s ankle in the NICU eighteen years ago.