Beatrice had not set out, on any single day, to steal five years of his fatherhood.

Her original crime, the interception of Elena’s calls and letter, had been committed in a matter of weeks, in the heat of a divorce, out of a twisted conviction that she was protecting her son.

But then the babies were born, and she ran her secret test, and she knew, and in that moment she faced a choice: to confess what she had done, and endure his rage, and give him back his children, or to stay silent one more day.

And she chose silence, that first day, because confession was unbearable and silence was easy.