Three newborns.

Two boys and a girl.

I had seen Megan carrying two babies along that highway. Where was the third child?

And why had someone gone to such extraordinary lengths to make sure I never knew she existed?

I grabbed Russell’s desk.

“Where is Hazel?”

“I don’t know.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“Garrett, listen. I was paid to investigate Megan, not to protect her. Walter gave me instructions. I followed them.”

“Who gave you the instructions?”

He swallowed.

“Tiffany.”

I stared at him.

“My fiancée?”

Russell nodded reluctantly.

“She told me the children weren’t yours. She said Megan had been seeing another man before the divorce. Walter backed her up. I was told to establish that the pregnancy had nothing to do with you.”

I felt something cold settle in my stomach.

“Did you ever verify that?”

“No.”

“Did you even try?”

Russell looked away.

That was answer enough.

I picked up the envelope and emptied its contents across his desk. There were hospital references, payment records, pH๏τocopies of birth certificates, and a folded piece of paper with a date written at the top.

The date was thirteen months earlier.

The same week Megan had begged me to listen.

My hands began shaking.

“Tell me where these records came from.”

“An employee at the hospital gave my investigator copies. I don’t know who authorized it.”

I looked at the birth records.

Mason Sullivan.

Bryce Sullivan.

Hazel Sullivan.

All three children carried my surname.

My surname.

I read the names again, hoping I had misunderstood.

“Why are there three?”

Russell hesitated.

“They were triplets.”

I stumbled backward and caught the edge of his desk.

Triplets.

Megan had been carrying my three children when I threw her out of our house.

And I had spent thirteen months believing she had betrayed me.

“Where is the girl?” I demanded.

Russell shook his head.

“Garrett, I think you need to speak to Walter.”

I took out my phone.

“No. I think Walter needs to speak to me.”

But before I could make the call, another detail caught my attention.

One of the documents was a hospital discharge summary. The boys had been released into Megan’s care. Hazel, however, had remained hospitalized.

The notes mentioned a congenital heart defect and an urgent surgical procedure.

At the bottom was a handwritten statement:

Financial authorization withdrawn. Responsible party contacted. Further ᴀssistance declined.

I stared at the words.

“Who withdrew the authorization?”

Russell said nothing.

I turned the paper over.

There was a signature.

Tiffany’s.

My chest тιԍнтened.

She had been involved in my divorce investigation, the accusations against Megan, and now the medical records of my daughter.

I left Russell’s office without another word.

At 9:40 p.m., I arrived home.

Tiffany was sitting on the living room sofa, drinking wine and scrolling through her phone.

She looked up and smiled.

“Baby, you’re late.”

I didn’t return the smile.

“Where’s Walter?”

Her expression shifted slightly.

“Why?”

“I need to talk to him.”

“He’s probably asleep. What’s going on?”

I placed the hospital document on the coffee table.

Her eyes dropped to the signature.

For one brief moment, her face lost all its color.

Then she laughed.

“Where did you get that?”

“That’s what I’m asking you.”

She put her glᴀss down.

“Garrett, I don’t know what Russell has been telling you, but that man is a liar. You shouldn’t believe anything he says.”

“He showed me the birth records.”

Silence.

“He showed me the pH๏τographs. The payments. The hospital report.”

Tiffany stood.

“Those children aren’t yours.”

I felt my jaw тιԍнтen.

“Three birth certificates say otherwise.”

“Birth certificates can be manipulated.”

“Can hospital records be manipulated too? Can DNA results?”

Her eyes narrowed.

“What are you talking about?”

I stepped closer.

“I’m talking about my children, Tiffany.”

She shook her head impatiently.

“You don’t understand. Megan trapped you. She was going to use those babies to take everything you built.”

I stared at her.

“Everything I built?”

“Yes! You have a company, property, investments, a reputation. She knew exactly what she was doing.”

I almost laughed.

The woman who had helped destroy my marriage was standing in my living room accusing the woman I had abandoned of being a gold digger.

“Did you know she was pregnant when I divorced her?”

Tiffany didn’t answer.

“Did you?”

“She was always dramatic. She probably wanted to tell you something to make you stay.”

My hands curled into fists.

“Was Hazel born with a heart condition?”

Tiffany’s face changed.

That was the moment I knew.

She knew.

She had known about my daughter.

“Why did you withdraw the medical authorization?” I asked.

Tiffany took a step backward.

“I didn’t withdraw anything. I was helping your family avoid a financial disaster.”

“Your signature is on the document.”

“Walter handled those things!”

I turned toward her.

“So Walter and you were working together?”

She closed her eyes briefly.

Then she looked at me with an expression I had never seen before.

“Garrett, you need to calm down. There’s a reason we kept this from you.”

“What reason could possibly justify hiding my children?”

She didn’t answer.

Instead, she reached for her phone.

I took mine out first.

“Don’t call anyone. I’m not leaving until I know everything.”

She looked at me coldly.

“You’re making a terrible mistake.”

“Maybe. But throwing my pregnant wife out of this house was the biggest one I’ve ever made.”

For the first time, Tiffany looked genuinely frightened.

Then she said something that made my blood run colder.

“Megan wasn’t supposed to have all three babies.”

I stared at her.

“What?”

“She was supposed to give one up. Walter arranged everything.”

I couldn’t breathe.

“Give one up to whom?”

Tiffany pressed her lips together.

I grabbed the hospital report again.

“Who was supposed to take my daughter?”

She looked toward the hallway.

And then a man’s voice came from behind us.

“That’s enough, Tiffany.”

Walter Briggs stood in the doorway.

He was holding a leather folder.

The same man who had served my family for twenty-six years. The same man who had stood silently while security escorted Megan out of my house.

He looked at me without blinking.

“Garrett, there are things about your family you were never meant to discover.”

I stepped toward him.

“Where is my daughter?”

Walter opened the folder.

Inside were bank statements, medical documents, and a pH๏τograph of a little girl lying in a hospital crib.

My little girl.

Her tiny hand was wrapped around a stuffed rabbit.

On the back of the pH๏τograph was a handwritten note:

Patient Hazel Sullivan. Emergency contact: Walter Briggs.

I looked up.

“Why are you listed as her emergency contact?”

Walter’s expression finally cracked.

“Because I was the one who arranged her treatment after Tiffany refused to authorize the money.”

I froze.

“You paid for my daughter’s surgery?”

“Not all of it.”

“Then who did?”

Walter looked at the pH๏τograph.

“Megan sold everything she owned. Her wedding ring. Her mother’s jewelry. Even the car you gave her. She refused to let that little girl die.”

My throat тιԍнтened.

“And where is she now?”

Walter hesitated.

Then he reached into the folder and pulled out one final document.

It was a copy of our divorce agreement.

I recognized the signature.

Mine.

But beneath it was a clause I had never seen before.

Any future children born from the marriage would remain undisclosed to Garrett Sullivan, and all parental rights would be relinquished in exchange for a financial settlement.

I read it twice.

Then a third time.

“I never agreed to this.”

Walter nodded.

“I know.”

“Who put this in my divorce papers?”

He looked directly at me.

“Your attorney.”

I felt the room tilt.

“My attorney worked for me.”

“No, Garrett. Your attorney worked for your father before he died. And your father left instructions concerning the Sullivan inheritance that nobody wanted you to discover.”

I stared at him.

“What inheritance?”

Walter placed another document on the table.

It was a trust agreement dated six months before my father’s death.

My father’s signature was at the bottom.

And the beneficiary section contained three names:

Mason Sullivan.

Bryce Sullivan.

Hazel Sullivan.

My children.

The estate my father had left behind wasn’t simply mine to control. It had been protected for his grandchildren.

And if I had knowingly abandoned them, the trust would be transferred beyond my control.

I looked at Tiffany.

She was crying now, but I couldn’t tell whether she was frightened or angry.

“Was this all about the money?” I asked.

She wiped her cheeks.

“You don’t understand what your father did to me.”

I stepped closer.

“What did he do?”

Before she could answer, my phone rang.

An unknown number.

I answered.

A woman’s exhausted voice came through.

“Garrett?”

I stopped breathing.

It was Megan.

“Where are you?” I asked immediately. “Are the boys safe? Is Hazel—”

“Don’t come looking for us.”

“Megan, please. I need to see my children.”

There was a long silence.

Then she spoke.

“You had thirteen months to look for us.”

“I didn’t know.”

“You didn’t want to know.”

Her words cut deeper than anything Tiffany could have said.

“I know I was wrong. I know I don’t deserve forgiveness. But please, tell me where Hazel is.”

Megan’s voice broke.

“Hazel is alive, Garrett. She’s recovering.”

I closed my eyes.

“Thank God.”

“But there’s something else you need to know.”

“What?”

“I didn’t find those birth records. I didn’t contact Russell. And I certainly didn’t send you that pH๏τograph.”

My stomach тιԍнтened.

“Then who did?”

Megan took a shaky breath.

“Someone came to my apartment this afternoon. Someone who said they could finally prove what happened to our family.”

I looked at Walter.

His face had turned completely white.

Megan continued.

“He gave me a recording. It was made the night you threw me out.”

I couldn’t move.

“What recording?”

Her answer came in a whisper.

“Your father was still alive that night, Garrett. And he was in the house.”

The phone nearly slipped from my hand.

“That’s impossible. My father died six months before my divorce.”

“No,” Megan said. “He died thirteen months ago. But he knew what Tiffany and Walter were planning. He tried to stop them.”

I looked at Walter.

He was already reaching for the folder.

But Megan wasn’t finished.

“Garrett, your father left one final message. He said if you ever discovered the truth about the children, you should ask Walter one question.”

“What question?”

Her voice trembled.

“Ask him who was standing outside the hospital nursery when Hazel was born—and why that person wanted your daughter to die.”