“It’s okay, sweetie,” I murmured, brushing a damp curl away from his forehead. “Just stay close to me.”

Leo was watching Garrett, his young eyes curious and quiet.

Garrett slowly turned around to face us, the anger on his face replacing his previous shock.

He walked toward us, his steps heavy on the Persian rug.

“You planned this,” Garrett said, his voice low and shaking.

“You waited for this exact day to bring them here.”

“I did what I had to do, Garrett,” I said, keeping my voice even.

“You ignored every letter my lawyer sent you for six months.”

Vivian walked over to stand beside her son, her eyes fixed on the triplets.

She scanned their faces, looking at the shape of their noses, the color of their eyes.

“This is an extortion attempt,” Vivian said, her voice rising. “They look nothing like the Bradfords.”

“They have his eyes, Vivian,” I said. “And you know it.”

Garrett looked down at Leo, who stared back at him with the exact same deep blue eyes.

A flicker of doubt crossed Garrett’s face, followed quickly by a defensive hardness.