Page 11 of Silver Fox's Secret Triplets
I settled into the chair beside her bed and took her hand. Her skin felt papery and thin, so different from the strong hands that had braided my hair and bandaged my scraped knees throughout my childhood.
"How are you feeling today?"
"Like I've been hit by a truck, but the doctors say that's normal." She squeezed my fingers gently. "Tell me about my grandbabies. I still can't believe I have three of them to spoil." I hated the sad smile on her face because I knew it didn't have to be that way… that sad.
Guilt was my new best friend, apparently. It clung to every word out of her mouth and tormented me, but it wasn’t her fault. She had missed three years of their lives because I had been too ashamed and afraid to tell the truth. Three years of birthdays and first words and bedtime stories that she would never get back.
"They're good. Elena learned how to tie her shoes last week, and Sammy can count to fifty now. Chrissy still refuses to eat anything green, but she'll devour an entire bowl of blueberries if I let her."
My mother's eyes filled with tears, and I knew she was thinking the same thing I was. All the moments she had missed, all the milestones she should have been there to witness.
"I wish you had felt safe enough to tell me," she said quietly. "I would have helped. I would have understood."
"I know." The words came out thick with unshed tears. "I was scared. You know how Dad gets when I don't meet his expectations. I couldn't handle disappointing him again."
My father and I had been at odds since I was old enough to have opinions of my own. He wanted me to follow in his footsteps, to study business and join the family company. I wanted to study marine biology and work with sea turtles. He wanted me to date the sons of his business associates, nice boys from good families who would enhance the Whitmore name. I wanted to date whoever made me happy, regardless of their pedigree.
The fight we had when I chose my major had lasted for weeks. He accused me of being naive and idealistic, of wasting the advantages he had worked so hard to provide. I accused him of trying to control every aspect of my life, of caring more about appearances than my happiness.
In the end, we had reached an uneasy truce, but the underlying tension never went away. Every conversation feltlike a potential battlefield, every decision I made subject to his judgment and criticism.
When I found out I was pregnant, the thought of facing his disappointment and anger was overwhelming. It was easier to disappear, to start over somewhere he couldn't reach me with his disapproval.
"Your father loves you," my mother said, though her voice carried a note of uncertainty. "He just doesn't know how to show it sometimes."
"He loves the version of me he wishes existed. The one who would have married Todd Henderson and given him legitimate grandchildren and a son-in-law who looks good at charity galas."
My mother was quiet for a long moment, her eyes studying my face with the intensity that had always made me feel like she could see straight through to my soul.
"Ivy," she said finally, her voice careful and measured. "Are they Duncan's?"
The question seared my conscience, branding me a liar and a rebellious daughter. I had been dreading it for three days, ever since she first laid eyes on the triplets and I saw the recognition flicker across her face.
"What makes you ask that?"
"Because your father is going to ask the same question, and they look an awful lot like Duncan did when he was younger." She shifted in the bed, the IV pole rattling softly. "And because you ran away right after his Fourth of July party four years ago."
I closed my eyes and felt the weight of four years of lies crushing down on me. There was no point in denying it anymore. The truth was written in the shape of Elena's eyes, in the stubborn set of Sammy's jaw, in the way Chrissy tilted her head when she was thinking.
"Yes."
The word came out as barely a whisper, but it felt like a shout in the quiet hospital room.
"Oh, sweetheart." My mother's voice was full of compassion and sadness and something that might have been relief. "You've been carrying this alone for so long."
"You can't tell anyone. Please." I gripped her hand tighter, desperation creeping into my voice. "If Dad finds out, if Duncan finds out?—"
"I'll take it to my grave if that's what you want," she said firmly. "But honey, they both deserve to know the truth. Duncan especially. Those children are his too." Her eyes were searching but soft. This wasn't the reaction I assumed she'd have, and it almost brought tears to my eyes to feel accepted instead of judged.
"He doesn't want children. He's never been married, never even had a serious relationship that lasted more than a few months. He's focused on his career, and he's got a multi-million-dollar company to run. The last thing he needs is three toddlers complicating his life."
"Have you asked him what he wants?" She gently squeezed my hand as she studied my face, which probably gave away how awful I was feeling.
Before I could answer, there was a soft knock on the door. Dr. White entered the room, his expression serious as he approached my mother's bed.
"Mrs. Whitmore, I'm afraid I have some concerning news about your latest blood work."
My mother and I exchanged glances, and I felt my stomach drop. The doctor's tone was gentle but grave, the voice of someone who had delivered bad news many times before.
