Ethan stared at the screen, his chest rising and falling quickly.

“Who is this?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

I managed to shake my head slightly.

“Your father,” I said.

Eleanor stood very still.

The smirk had completely vanished from her face.

“Ethan, don’t be ridiculous,” she said. “Your father has no business with this woman.”

Ethan scrolled further down.

He read the next message aloud.

“*The payment to your landlord has been stopped. Consider this a warning about trying to visit the hospital.*”

The date matched the week Ethan had been promoted to chief resident.

I remember that week clearly.

I had stood outside the glass doors of this very building, holding the twins in a double stroller, too afraid to cross the street.

Ethan looked up at his mother.

His face was entirely pale.

“You told me she took the money and ran,” Ethan said.

“You showed me the bank transfers,” he said.

“She was a desperate girl, Ethan,” Eleanor said, her voice rising slightly.

She looked at the men in suits, then back to her son.