“What is wrong with my children?” Ethan demanded.

“Nothing is wrong with their health, sir,” Vance said, looking down at his clipboard.

“But we just received a notice from the administrative wing.”

“A donor has just made a very large, anonymous contribution to the hospital’s pediatric foundation.”

Ethan’s eyes narrowed.

“Go on,” he said.

“The donor’s representative is downstairs right now,” Vance said.

“They are requesting an immediate transfer of the Parker twins.”

“To where?” Ethan asked.

“To a private, restricted care facility in the suburbs,” Vance said.

“The paperwork is already being pushed through the board.”

Ethan stood up, his face darkening with a sudden, fierce anger.

“Who is the representative?” Ethan asked.

Vance looked at me, then back at Ethan.

“She didn’t give her name, but she arrived in a black town car with the Harrison corporate logo on the plate.”

My breath caught in my throat.

“She’s here,” I whispered.

Ethan walked to the window and looked down at the street below.

The wind was blowing sheets of cold Chicago rain against the glass.

“She’s not taking them,” Ethan said.