I looked back at the screen, my eyes scanning the fabricated details.

There were quotes from a “leading neuropsychologist” who had never met me.

The quotes analyzed my supposed history of postpartum depression, twisting my exhaustion into a permanent mental deficit.

“He planned this,” I said.

“He had these documents prepared before the babies were even born,” Margaret agreed.

She took the tablet back and began typing rapidly on her own phone.

“We need to issue a cease-and-desist immediately,” she said.

“But the damage is already done, isn’t it?” I asked. “The public believes what they see first.”

“We will fight it,” Margaret said.

She walked back to my bedside.

“But we have a larger problem.”

“What is it?”

“The hospital board,” Margaret said. “They are risk-averse. If they see this kind of press, they may cooperate with Grant to protect their own reputation.”

My thoughts drifted to the infants.

They were down the hall, in the neonatal intensive care unit.

They were tiny, connected to wires and tubes, fighting for every breath.

“Are the babies safe?” I asked.