Claire shifted the phone to her other ear. “Yes?”
“This is Dr. Judith Harper from Riverside General Hospital.”
Claire froze.
The eggs hissed in the skillet.
Something cold and ancient moved through her chest. Riverside General. Even after seven years, those two words could still reduce her body to memory—bleach, blood, cold sheets, empty arms.
“I need you to come in immediately regarding your daughters’ records from March 2019,” Dr. Harper said.
For a second, Claire thought she had misheard her.
Her daughters.
Not the twins. Not the infants. Not the stillbirths.
Her daughters.
The spatula slipped from Claire’s hand and hit the floor with a hard clatter. “My daughters died,” she whispered.
The woman on the line drew a breath that sounded almost like regret. “Mrs. Bennett, there are serious discrepancies in the delivery file. Sealed statements were found this week, along with audio evidence that was removed from the record. I cannot discuss this over the phone. Please come today.”
The line went dead.
Claire stood there staring at the wall.
The eggs burned black in the pan.
The kitchen began to smell bitter.
She did not move until Ethan came down the stairs, one hand still at his collar, tie loose around his neck. He stopped when he saw her face.
She looked at him, but for a moment she could not make her mouth work. The phone was still in her hand. Her skin felt numb, as if she’d stepped out of herself.
Ethan crossed the room in three quick strides and took the skillet off the burner before the smoke alarm could go off. “What happened?”
“The hospital called.”
He went still.
“Necessary?” she repeated, stepping into the doorway. “Necessary?”
Margaret folded her hands before her with infuriating calm. “Those girls were a burden before they took their first breath. You had debts. Claire was unstable. The marriage was already strained. I made a decision that protected this family.”
Claire lunged.
She did not decide to. Her body simply moved. The photo slipped from her hand as she reached for Margaret with a cry ripped raw from somewhere below language. Ethan caught her around the waist just before she could strike, dragging her back as she thrashed against him.
“You sold them!” Claire screamed. “You stole my babies!”
Margaret did not step back.
She stood in the foyer under the chandelier, dry and elegant and almost bored. “You should be thanking me. At least they were raised by people who could afford them.”
That was when headlights swept across the front windows.
Tires crunched on wet gravel.
Blue and red lights flashed over the stone walls and polished floor.
