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.

But when I saw that petition meant to take a mother’s newborn children away from her, I realized I wasn’t protecting anyone.

I was actively helping to erase an innocent woman.”

The soft sound of the rain echoed through the garage opening.

I looked down at the folded plan in my hand once more.

“Get in my car,” I ordered Marcus firmly.

Marcus’s eyes widened in surprise.

“You want me to drive to Laurel Street with you?” he asked nervously.

“You’re the one who knows where the secondary tunnel entrance is,” I pointed out.