I nodded, feeling a pang of guilt for not noticing how thin she had become.

“We ran some routine scans and a physical exam,” Dr. Shah continued, his voice dropping.

He looked at the chart in his hands, then up at me.

“Is there any medical history you can share? She has a significant surgical scar.”

“She’s only been our housekeeper for a year,” I said. “I don’t have her medical records.”

“It’s a horizontal lower-uterine segment scar,” Dr. Shah said. “A Caesarean section.”

I stared at him, confused.

“Claire has no children,” I said. “Her application stated she lives alone and has no family.”

“Well, the scar is well-healed,” Dr. Shah said. “I would estimate it is about five years old.”

Five years.

The exact age of Lucas and Owen.

My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird.

“Thank you, Doctor,” I muttered, turning away before he could say more.

I walked over to Ruth, who was still staring out at the rain.

“Ruth,” I said, my voice barely a whisper.

She flinched but did not turn around.

“Did you know about this?” I asked.

“About what, sir?” she asked, her voice trembling.

“Claire had a baby five years ago,” I said. “The same year Evelyn died. The same year my boys were born.”

Ruth finally turned to face me.

Tears were streaming down her wrinkled cheeks, reflecting the harsh fluorescent lights.

“I didn’t want to believe it at first,” Ruth whispered.

“Believe what?” I demanded, grabbing her by the arm.

“The way she looked at them from her first day here,” Ruth said, her voice cracking. “The way she knew exactly how to soothe Owen when he had his night terrors.”

She took a deep, shaky breath.

“I started looking through her things in the staff quarters,” Ruth admitted.

“You went through her room?” I asked.