Now I realized she was holding a secret that kept her alive.

“She carried my boys,” I murmured.

“Claire carried them.”

“Yes,” Ruth said.

“She gave birth to them right down the hall from where Evelyn passed away.”

“But why did she leave?” I asked, looking up.

“If she was their mother, why did she disappear the moment they were born?”

“I was told she was just a temporary nurse who quit.”

Ruth’s face paled.

She looked around the empty hallway as if someone might be listening.

“That wasn’t her choice, Mr. Whitmore,” Ruth said.

“There was someone else involved.”

“Who?” I asked.

My heart was beating so fast I could hear it in my ears.

“Your father,” Ruth said.

I froze.

My father, Arthur Whitmore, had been a cold, powerful man.

He had controlled our family business with an iron fist until his death two years ago.

“My father?” I asked.

“He found out about the arrangement,” Ruth said.

“He discovered the medical bills Evelyn had paid.”

“He was furious that a girl like Claire had carried the Whitmore heirs.”