Chapter 1

A package arrived. VIP contract from the city's most exclusive Elite Postpartum Retreat.

Patient name: Elena Morrison.

I stared at it, confused. Then I called Leon.

"Babe, why are you booking this so early? I'm only three months along!"

Silence on the other end. A few beats too long.

Then his gentle voice came through.

"Sweetheart, I'm new at this whole dad thing. I want everything perfect for you. Don't worry about it—I'll handle it when I get home."

My chest warmed. I teased him for being ridiculous.

"You're not clueless. You've been amazing."

Leon was everyone's golden boy—the perfect husband who anticipated my every need through this pregnancy. Attentive. Thoughtful. Loving.

But when I pulled out the contract, my fingers froze.

Estimated delivery date: next month.

My baby was only three months along.

The realization hit like ice water.

His "first time being a father" wasn't about my child.

His experience came from another woman.

***

It's a printing error. Had to be.

That's what I told myself, even as my fingers betrayed me and pulled up the retreat's website.

I dialed. My voice stayed steady.

"Hi, I need to verify an order. Last four digits 8867. Patient name Elena Morrison."

"One moment, please."

The receptionist's voice dripped with professional warmth.

"Ms. Morrison, your reservation is confirmed. Estimated delivery date is the 15th of next month. You've booked our premier suite. Mr. Morrison paid in full. The contract has been mailed!"

My hand trembled around the phone.

"You're certain it's... Elena Morrison? My ID number is—"

"Confirmed, Ms. Morrison."

She cut me off.

"Mr. Morrison specifically noted that you're carrying twins and will need special care. Rest assured, we have state-of-the-art facilities and a 24-hour medical team. You and your babies will be in excellent hands."

Twins?

I ended the call. Sat on the couch. My hands and feet went numb.

The name was right. ID number matched.

But I was carrying one baby. Only three months along.

This retreat was expensive—the kind of place that could handle a walk-in delivery the day before labor and still provide white-glove service.

So why book months in advance?

Whose babies were being born next month?

***

Leon came home after midnight.

I sat in the dark, the contract spread on the coffee table. I'd read that line so many times I could recite it from memory.

"Elena?" He flipped on the light.

"Why are you sitting in the dark?"

I didn't answer. Just looked at him.

He walked over, eyes soft, leaning down to kiss me. I turned my head away.

"Elena?" Confusion crept into his voice.

"Leon." My voice came out calmer than I expected.

"I got the contract today."

"Why does it say the delivery date is next month? And twins?"

He paused mid-motion.

Then he laughed. Crouched in front of me and took my hands.

"I was going to tell you—their system made an error. I already contacted them to fix it."

He looked up at me, eyes filled with that familiar tenderness.

"Babe, you're pregnant. You can't stress yourself out like this. It's not good for the baby."

If this were before, I would've believed him.

But this time, I didn't miss the flash of panic in his eyes.