The nurse frowned. “Only authorized contacts are supposed to receive updates.”
“I wasn’t authorized?” I asked.
Sylvie’s cheeks colored faintly. “I listed you.”
That hit me harder than I expected.
Seven months of silence, legal battles, and public distance—and she had written my name on a hospital form.
“As emergency contact?” I asked.
“As the father,” she said.
Nurse Torres pretended not to hear. “I’ll check with the desk about the call.”
When she left, the room became quiet again, but not peaceful.
I shifted Mara carefully. “You listed me as their father.”
Sylvie met my eyes. “Because you are.”
“You keep saying that like saying it makes the last seven months disappear.”
“I don’t want them to disappear.”
“Then what do you want?”
She looked at Mara, then Elise. “I want them to have the truth.”
The truth.
It had been the word we both claimed during the divorce. My truth. Her truth. The board’s truth. The lawyers’ truth. The tabloids’ truth once someone leaked that our marriage had collapsed under allegations of betrayal and corporate sabotage.
I had believed the simplest version because it hurt the least to hold: Sylvie had betrayed me. Sylvie had stolen research. Sylvie had planned to leave long before I knew she was leaving.
Simple stories were easier to survive.
But Mara’s tiny hand had opened against my shirt. Her fingers curled in the fabric like she expected me to stay.
I was no longer sure I had survived anything correctly.
The door opened again, this time more softly.
A woman in a white coat entered, her dark hair pulled into a knot at the nape of her neck. She carried a tablet and wore the careful expression doctors used when bringing important news in manageable portions.
“Ms. Vexley,” she said, then turned to me. “Mr. Vexley. I’m Dr. Hannah Kim.”
“Are they healthy?” I asked before I could stop myself.
Dr. Kim’s expression softened. “They’re doing well. Both girls are stable. Small, but strong. We’ll keep monitoring them overnight, especially since labor moved quickly, but there’s no immediate concern.”
Some part of me loosened.
I had not realized how much fear had slipped in beneath the shock.
“And Sylvie?” I asked.
The doctor’s eyes moved to her. “She needs rest. Delivery was uncomplicated in the end, but she came in under considerable stress and exhaustion. That matters.”
Sylvie looked annoyed. “I’m fine.”
Dr. Kim gave her a look that suggested this argument had already happened and the doctor had won. “You are recovering. There’s a difference.”
I almost smiled.
Then Dr. Kim turned serious. “Before we continue, I need to ask whether both of you consent to Mr. Vexley being included in medical discussions concerning the babies.”