Page 116 of Silence and Surrender

His hand tightened on mine. A slight tremor betrayed emotion he couldn’t quite contain. “Twins,” he whispered, the word half-reverent, half-terrified.

Doctor Eisenberg pointed out features with clinical precision, the spine, skull, and limbs. All developing normally. All perfectly formed. “See here,” she said, tracing a curve on the screen. “Here is Twin A, and here,” she moved the wand slightly, “is his brother.”

But I was watching Colton as he studied our sons on the screen, seeing the moment he truly understood what this meant. His free hand moved unconsciously to my shoulder, squeezing lightly.

“Can we...” his voice caught, and he cleared his throat. “Can we hear the heartbeats?”

Doctor Eisenberg adjusted something on the machine, and suddenly the room filled with a rapid, rhythmic pulsing—two distinct patterns, slightly offset, creating a duet of life.

Colton’s eyes closed briefly, his fingers tightening on mine. For a man who always had words for every situation, he was stunned silent. The naked emotion on his face was startling. Beautiful.

His phone buzzed again, shattering our brief peace.

“Rodger landed,” he said after checking. His voice was rougher than usual. “He’s demanding an emergency meeting with the executive committee.”

Doctor Eisenberg’s movements became more efficient, though no less thorough. “Then we finish quickly. But first—with twins, you’ll need additional supplements. More rest. More precautions.”

“More risk,” I said, the reality of our situation crashing back. Two babies meant more complications. More danger for all of us.

She handed me printouts of the ultrasound images. “Four months with twins means you’re essentially at five months in terms of development and physical demands. Your body is working twice as hard.”

“Explaining the extreme fatigue,” I murmured, studying the images. “And why I can’t seem to stay awake past eight most nights.”

“Precisely.” She made notes in a file—paper only, nothing electronic that could be traced. “No more than four hours at the computer. Regular movement throughout the day. And absolutely no stress.”

At that, I couldn’t help a bitter laugh. “In our current situation—”

“I’m well aware of your circumstances,” she cut in, her voice gentle but firm. “Which is precisely why you must be more careful. Twins are at higher risk even in ideal conditions.”

Colton helped me clean the gel off my stomach, his hands lingering over where our sons grew. The wonder in his expression made my throat tight, but his voice was steady when he spoke.

“Cooper’s never going to shut up about this.”

“At least we told Clara she can’t name them,” I managed, trying to sit up despite my awkward balance. “We’d end up with something ridiculous. Grape and Olive, probably.”

His smile was brief but genuine. “Knowing Clara, something worse.”

I giggled, the sound strange to my ears. It had been a long time since I’d laughed.

“Time to move,” Colton said. “Rodger’s meeting.”

I watched Colton’s transformation, the vulnerable father vanishing behind the warrior’s mask. His shoulders straightened, jaw tightening as he slipped back into the role he’d been playing.

Doctor Eisenberg handed him a packet of prenatal supplements. “These are specially formulated for multiple births. Ensure she takes them morning and evening.”

She packed up her equipment and then Colton escorted her to the door where one of Steele’s men waited to take her safely from the building.

“They’ll use this against us,” I said once we were alone again. “If they discover—”

“They won’t.”

I looked down at the ultrasound photos, studying the grey shapes that would become our children. Two boys. Two brothers. Two lives we were responsible for protecting. “Twins explain the symptoms. The fatigue. The early showing.”

“And why you’re not leaving the penthouse again until this is finished.” His tone left no room for argument. “Doctor Eisenberg will continue to come to us.”

“Colton—”

“Please.” Something cracked in his voice. “I can’t risk—not with both of them. They’re connected forever.”

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