“I was terrified,” Elena admitted through tears, explaining that Genevieve’s death convinced her Malcolm was dangerous, so she disappeared, changed jobs repeatedly, and stayed silent until she learned through an old nurse that the twins had developed leukemia.
I wanted Malcolm dragged into my office immediately, but Elena stopped me because proving what he had done could wait while Jonah and Blythe were running out of time, and for once in my life, revenge became less important than the two children sleeping upstairs.
Tests began before midnight, and Elena was indeed a remarkably close biological match, although the doctors warned that the experimental procedure carried enormous risks because the twins were already dangerously weak after months of treatments their bodies had struggled to tolerate.
I sat beside Jonah while preparations began, and he touched my face with his tiny hand before asking whether the woman outside was an angel, because Blythe had apparently told him angels sometimes arrived wearing old coats instead of wings.
“No,” I whispered, fighting tears as Elena watched from the doorway, “she’s your aunt,” and Blythe smiled weakly before saying, “Then Mommy sent family,” a sentence that finally made Elena cover her mouth and begin sobbing.
