Twin A — Kirsten Sinclair.
Twin B — Unknown.
I read it once.
Then again.
My mind refused to accept the words.
Twins.
I had spent years believing I couldn’t carry a pregnancy to term.
I had spent years believing my body had failed me.
But the photograph was right there.
Proof that somewhere, eight years ago, two babies had been born.
One of them was mine.
The other…
I looked at Connor.
He had stopped breathing.
Not literally.
But close enough.
His lips were slightly parted.
His eyes were fixed on the photograph with a terror I had never seen before.
“Connor,” I whispered.
He didn’t answer.
I took one step toward him.
“Look at me.”
His eyes lifted.
For the first time in our entire marriage, he looked like a man who had run out of lies.
“You knew.”
He swallowed.
“Kirsten…”
“You knew.”
“I didn’t know everything.”
A bitter laugh escaped me.
“That’s not an answer.”
Melinda suddenly started crying harder.
“Please.”
I turned toward her.
“Please what?”
She shook her head.
“I never wanted this.”
“You never wanted what?”
“The truth.”
The hallway seemed to shrink around us.
Nurses were pretending not to listen.
Patients were pretending not to stare.
But none of that mattered anymore.
My entire past had just cracked open.
I held up the photograph.
“Dr. Vale said there were two babies.”
Melinda closed her eyes.
I watched her face.
Then I asked the question that had been burning through me.
“Where is the other one?”
She didn’t answer.
Connor did.
“I don’t know.”
I stared at him.
“You don’t know?”
“No.”
“You just said you didn’t know everything.”
“I didn’t.”
“So you know something.”
His jaw tightened.
I stepped closer.
“You know something.”
Connor looked at Melinda.
That single glance was enough.
There were secrets between them.
Secrets I had never imagined.
Dr. Vale finally spoke.
“The second child was transferred.”
“Where?”
“We were told another hospital.”
“Which hospital?”
He hesitated.
“St. Catherine’s.”
My stomach dropped.
“That hospital closed seven years ago.”
“I know.”
“Then where did the baby go?”
Dr. Vale looked down.
“We don’t know.”
A strange calm settled over me.
It was the kind of calm that comes just before something inside you shatters.
“Eight years,” I whispered.
Nobody answered.
“Eight years,” I repeated.
I looked at Connor.
“You let me believe I could never have children.”
He closed his eyes.
“I didn’t know that was what happened.”
“You knew enough.”
“I was told the pregnancy had failed.”
“Who told you?”
Silence.
“Connor.”
He looked at me.
“Who told you?”
His voice dropped.
“Your doctor.”
I turned toward Dr. Vale.
He looked devastated.
“I didn’t tell him that.”
Connor’s head snapped toward him.
“Yes, you did.”
“No.”
“You told me the treatment had failed.”
“I told you the records showed a failed treatment.”
I felt dizzy.
“What does that mean?”
Dr. Vale looked directly at me.
“I never saw the complete file.”
“What?”
“The final pages were missing.”
My heart stopped.
“Missing?”
He nodded.
“Someone removed them.”
Daniel stepped forward.
“I told you.”
Dr. Vale looked at him.
“You knew?”
“I suspected.”
Connor’s expression changed.
“You two know each other.”
Neither answered.
I looked between them.
“What is going on?”
Daniel slowly opened his folder again.
“I worked for the clinic’s legal department.”
I frowned.
“Eight years ago?”
“Yes.”
“And you investigated my case?”
“No.”
He looked at Connor.
“I investigated what happened to the embryos.”
My blood went cold.
“What embryos?”
Daniel took out another document.
“The clinic stored seven embryos from your treatment.”
I shook my head.
“That isn’t possible.”
“It is.”
“I was told there were three.”
“Your husband was told three.”
I looked at Connor.
His face was completely blank.
Daniel continued.
“There were seven.”
Melinda whispered, “Stop.”
Daniel turned toward her.
“You’ve had eight years to tell her.”
“Don’t.”
“You had eight years to do the right thing.”
Connor stepped between them.
“Enough.”
Daniel laughed quietly.
“You still think you can control this.”
Connor’s voice hardened.
“Watch yourself.”
“No.”
Daniel looked at him.
“You should watch yourself.”
The tension between them felt almost physical.
I looked at the documents.
“Where are the other embryos?”
Daniel didn’t answer immediately.
That hesitation told me the answer would hurt.
“Five were destroyed.”
My throat tightened.
“And the other two?”
He looked at me.
“One was implanted.”
My heart stopped.
“When?”
“Eight years ago.”
“Into whom?”
Nobody spoke.
I looked at Melinda.
Her face collapsed.
“No,” I whispered.
She shook her head.
“Kirsten…”
“You.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“You carried my child.”
She didn’t deny it.
I stepped backward.
“You carried my child.”
“I didn’t know it was yours.”
“You didn’t know?”
“I was told—”
“Who told you?”
She looked at Connor.
That was all I needed.
I turned toward him.
“You put my embryo into her.”
Connor shook his head.
“No.”
“You did.”
“No.”
“Then tell me what happened.”
He said nothing.
I moved closer.
“You stole my child.”
His eyes filled with something that looked almost like shame.
“We were desperate.”
I laughed.
It wasn’t a happy sound.
“Desperate?”
“You wanted a family.”
“I wanted a family with you.”
His face tightened.
“And I wanted one too.”
“You didn’t want a family.”
I pointed at him.
“You wanted an heir.”
He flinched.
That hit something.
Something real.
I continued.
“You wanted someone to carry your name.”
“I loved you.”
“No.”
My voice broke for the first time.
“You loved what I could give you.”
Melinda covered her face.
I looked at her.
“And you?”
She lowered her hands.
“I loved you too.”
I stared at her.
“You slept with my husband.”
“I know.”
“You helped him destroy our marriage.”
“I know.”
“You carried my child.”
Tears streamed down her cheeks.
“I didn’t know.”
I shook my head.
“You knew enough.”
She whispered, “I was told the embryo wasn’t viable.”
“By whom?”
She looked toward Dr. Vale.
He immediately shook his head.
“Not me.”
Then the elevator chimed.
Everyone turned.
A woman stepped out.
She was older, perhaps in her sixties.
Gray hair.
Black coat.
A leather handbag hanging from one arm.
She looked directly at me.
Then she looked at Dr. Vale.
“You shouldn’t have brought her here.”
Dr. Vale went pale.
“Mrs. Fleming…”
I stared at the woman.
Fleming.
Connor’s mother.
She smiled at me.
Not warmly.
Not kindly.
Like someone seeing a problem she had spent years believing was buried.
“Kirsten,” she said.
My mouth went dry.
“You know about this.”
She didn’t deny it.
“I know everything.”
Connor stepped forward.
“Mother.”
She raised one hand.
“Not another word.”
He stopped.
She looked at me.
Then at the baby in the stroller.
Her expression changed.
For the first time, I saw fear.
She walked slowly toward the child.
She bent down.
And when she saw his face, she whispered:
“Oh God.”
I looked at her.
