Somewhere along the way, I had forgotten to love her gently.
A soft knock came at the door.
Nurse Torres entered again, but this time her expression was serious. “Mr. Vexley, may I speak with you in the hallway?”
Sylvie immediately stiffened. “About what?”
The nurse glanced toward the babies. “Security reviewed the call records from the front desk. Someone came in earlier asking for Ms. Vexley’s room.”
“Who?” I asked.
“A man. Mid-fifties. He said he was family.”
Maya frowned. “We don’t have anyone like that in New York.”
“Did he give a name?” Sylvie asked.
Nurse Torres hesitated. “He signed the visitor log.”
My phone buzzed before she could say more.
I looked down.
Daniel Mercer.
For several seconds, I simply stared at his name lighting up my screen.
Sylvie saw it too.
The old version of me would have answered immediately, stepped into the hall, gathered information, controlled the situation.
The man holding his ex-wife’s letter in a maternity room did not move so quickly.
I let it ring.
Daniel called again.
Then a message appeared.
Adrian, I heard Sylvie delivered. Do not sign anything tonight. We need to talk before you make a mistake.
The room seemed to draw in a breath.
Maya whispered, “How does he know?”
Sylvie’s face went white.
Nurse Torres looked between us. “The man who signed in earlier,” she said quietly. “His name was Daniel Mercer.”
For a long moment, no one spoke.
My phone buzzed once more.
This time, it was not Daniel.
It was an unknown number.
A photo appeared on the screen.
The image showed Mara and Elise asleep in their bassinet, taken from inside this room less than ten minutes ago.
Beneath it was one sentence:
Ask Sylvie what she really hid in the second envelope.
I looked up slowly.