Seven months after our divorce, I rushed into St. Jude’s Children’s and Women’s Hospital, still angry at my ex-wife, only to learn that she had just given birth to twin boys, and both of them were mine. Before the night was over, a nurse would place a brass key in my hand and tell me to use it before my own family arrived. And what was waiting for me beyond that was even more shocking.

“I need a little time to pull the files together,” Marcus pleaded.

“You’ve had seven full months to do the right thing, Marcus,” I reminded him sharply.

His breath caught sharply in his throat.

For one terrifying second, I thought he was going to hang up and vanish.

“I’ll be at the hospital in twenty minutes,” Marcus finally promised quietly.

The call ended.

Sylvia leaned back against her pillows, looking drained.

“Are you really going to trust that man again?” she asked softly.