“To a private clinic in upstate New York,” Margaret said. “It is owned by a subsidiary of the Holloway Empire.”

“Is it a good hospital?” I asked, desperately hoping for a sliver of safety.

“It is an unaccredited research facility,” Margaret said. “They do not have a level-four neonatal unit. They do not have the equipment my grandfather funded for this hospital.”

My heart hammered against my ribs, the cardiac monitor beside my bed chiming in a frantic rhythm.

“He wants to hide them,” I said. “He wants to keep them away from me.”

“He wants the trust,” Margaret corrected. “The voting shares of the Holloway Empire are tied to the legal custody of the heirs.”

“If he holds the babies in a private facility under his exclusive control, he can claim you are unfit to care for them due to your medical state.”

“He will use them as a shield against the board of directors,” she added.

“No,” I said.

I pulled the thin cotton blanket off my legs.

The cold air of the ICU hit my bare skin, making me shiver.