pulled from a conference.
For the first time in weeks, there was movement.
Hope is dangerous when you’re desperate.
It makes every sound feel like rescue.
I returned to the hospital with Elena just before dawn.
She stopped outside the twins’ room.
“I don’t know if I should go in.”
“Why?”
“They look like her.”
I studied her.
“You loved my wife.”
Elena lowered her eyes.
“She was the first person who ever treated me like my life wasn’t worth less because I was poor.”
That sentence did something strange to me.
Genevieve had been surrounded by wealth from the day we married, but money had never impressed her.
When we hosted fundraisers, she spent more time talking to kitchen staff than donors.
When a reporter once described her as a socialite, she laughed for ten minutes.
I opened the door.
Blythe woke first.
She stared at Elena.
“Who are
