He pulled a small black thumb drive from his pocket and held it tightly.

“This contains the raw data,” he said. “It proves they fabricated the entire story to make you look like a fraud.”

“But they don’t care,” I said. “Richard didn’t care at all.”

Ethan sat on the edge of my bed, his face grim.

“Because they are playing a different game now,” he said.

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“My mother doesn’t care about the financial fraud anymore,” Ethan said. “She knows she can tie that up in court for a decade.”

He looked toward the window, where the gray afternoon light was fading into twilight.

“She wants the twins,” Ethan said. “She wants them under her custody before the scandal hits the press.”

“They can’t just take them,” I said. “They are three weeks premature. They are on monitors.”

“They have resources we can’t even comprehend, Hannah,” Ethan said.

He leaned in close, his voice dropping to a whisper.

“I spoke to one of the security guards on the ground floor,” Ethan said. “He told me there are three black SUVs parked in the ambulance bay.”