He walked away from a $600M deal to watch his ex-wife count coins for food, completely oblivious that the twins beside her were carrying his exact face.

Two hours later, Eli was sleeping peacefully in a private, sunlit pediatric suite at St. Jude’s, an IV drip hydrating his small body and reducing his fever. A nurse had gently changed him into warm flannel pajamas, and Theo, full of hot chicken broth and warm bread, had curled up at the foot of his brother's bed, fast asleep with a plush teddy bear tucked under his arm.

Preston stood outside the glass door, watching them sleep.

Naomi stepped into the private corridor, closing the door softly behind her. She stood a few feet away, her arms crossed defensively over her chest. The hospital had provided her with dry clothes—a simple gray sweater and sweatpants—making her look younger, fragile, and utterly exhausted.

"They're safe," Naomi said quietly, her voice flat. "The doctor said Eli’s chest is clear. It was just a severe cold. Now tell me what you want, Preston."

Preston turned to face her. "I want the truth, Naomi."

"The truth?" She took a step toward him, her eyes ablaze with five years of buried agony. "You want the truth? The truth is you abandoned us! You sent your lawyers to hand me a check for fifty thousand dollars and an eviction from the apartment we shared. And when I found out two weeks later that I was carrying your children, I begged to see you!"

"Naomi, I swear on my life—"

"I wrote you three letters!" she cried, keeping her voice low so as not to wake the boys, but the intensity of her whisper was more devastating than a scream. "I went to your headquarters! Your security guards threw me out into the street! And then your high-priced lawyer, Mr. Thorne, showed up at my mother's deathbed with a restraining order! He told me that if I ever breathed your name or tried to trap you with 'bastards,' your family would declare me mentally unstable and have the state take them away at birth!"

Tears spilled over her lashes, burning trails down her pale cheeks.

"I was terrified, Preston. I was twenty-three years old, my mother was dying of cancer, and I had two heartbeats growing inside me. I had nobody. So I ran. I hid in the filthiest corners of this city so your monstrous family would never find them!"

Preston felt the floor dropping out from beneath him. He grabbed Naomi’s hands, dropping to his knees before her on the cold hospital tile.