“My father lied to me,” I said, the realization settling like dust in my chest. “He told me the surrogate wished to remain anonymous and had moved overseas.”

“He lied to both of us,” Claire said.

I stood up from the chair, the envelope tucked under my arm.

“You need to rest now,” I said, placing my hand over hers one last time.

“Are you going to take them away from me?” she asked, her voice filled with a sudden, sharp panic.

“No,” I said. “I am not going to do that.”

“But I have to go back to the house now. There is something I must take care of.”

“Please come back,” she whispered.

“I will,” I said.

I walked out of the room, the door closing with a soft hiss behind me.

The hospital corridor was bright and sterile, the fluorescent lights buzzing faintly overhead.

I walked down the hallway, my leather shoes squeaking on the polished linoleum.

As I exited the building, the cold winter air hit my face.

A light drizzle was falling, misting against the windshield of my car as I unlocked the door.