Caden’s voice lowered.
“Bellamy Reproductive Institute.”
The room tilted.
Elena heard the fryer.
The rattling vent.
A spoon striking porcelain somewhere far away.
Bellamy.
Her clinic.
Isla stirred against her.
Elena looked down at the child’s face.
“No,” she whispered.
Caden stepped closer.
“Elena.”
“My babies died.”
“I was told their surrogate died.”
The words entered the space between them and changed it permanently.
Elena looked up.
“What?”
“The clinic told me the woman carrying them suffered a catastrophic hemorrhage during delivery. They said she did not survive.”
“I’m alive.”
“Yes.”
“And your children are alive.”
“Yes.”
Her knees gave way.
Caden caught her before she hit the floor.
He took Elena’s weight without touching Isla, one arm around her back, the other supporting her elbow.
The triplets began crying again.
Elena clung to the little girl.
“My babies,” she said.
Caden looked at the three children.
Then at the woman in his arms.
For the first time in years, Caden Voss appeared to have no command to give.
One of his men returned from the front.
“Sir, Ortega found something.”
Caden did not look away from Elena.
“What?”
“The Bellamy Institute closed eleven months ago.”
“Why?”
“Fire.”
Elena felt cold spread through her.
The man continued.
“Records were destroyed. Founder disappeared.”
Caden’s eyes became lethal.
“Find him.”
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“We’re trying.”
“No.” Caden’s arm tightened around Elena as she swayed. “Find everyone.”