“Understood, Colonel,” Mercer replied, an edge sharpening in his tone. “We’ll prepare the warrants. Give the word and we’ll open the whole operation up.”

“Keep the warrants sealed. I’ll oversee the execution of it personally, by the book,” I said.

As I moved to hang up, a piercing alarm erupted from the neonatal monitor linked to my room. The screen flashed red. One of the twins had stopped breathing.

Chapter 5 — Two Universes

For six weeks my life ran in two separate, violently contrasting universes.

In one, I was a hollowed-out mother in a stiff rocking chair under the neon glow of the NICU, in soft milk-stained clothes, watching the translucent chests of my son and daughter rise and fall beneath webs of tubing and tape.

They weighed under four pounds each. Every beep of their monitors landed like a physical strike.