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.
Her knowledge of the twins.
The nurse’s urgent warning.
My family had been tracking Sylvia’s medical care and waiting for the exact moment to strike.
“Who leaked your medical information to my parents?” I asked, my voice dangerously quiet.
Sylvia’s expression tightened with uncertainty.
“I honestly don’t know,” she admitted softly.
My mind instantly ran back through the corporate chain.
Marcus Vance.
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