Chapter 1: Everything We Had Prayed For
After years of infertility, I came home with newborn triplets — my husband told me to pack a bag and leave the babies.
For eleven years, I dreamed of hearing someone call me Mom.
There were surgeries.
Failed treatments.
Five rounds of IVF.
Then, at forty-four, I finally saw two pink lines.
At our first ultrasound, the doctor stared at the screen and smiled.
"Actually...
there are three."
My husband, Alaric, cried.
Eight months later, I gave birth to three tiny, healthy babies — Luke, Thaddeus, and Grace.
When we finally brought them home, Alaric carried the car seats inside while I stood in the nursery doorway, overwhelmed.
Three cribs.
Three little blankets.
Everything we had prayed for.
Then Alaric said softly:
"Nevaeh, pack a bag."
I laughed, thinking he was joking.
He wasn't.
"What?"
"You need to leave tonight."
I stared at him.
"I just brought our babies home."
"I know."
"Then why would I leave?"
"Because the babies are staying here."
My knees nearly gave out.
I reached for Grace's car seat.
Alaric stepped between us.
"Please.
Don't make this harder."
I screamed at him.
Then someone knocked on the front door.
Alaric went completely pale.
"Go upstairs."
"No."
"Nevaeh, please."
The knocking came again.
Harder.
I pushed past him and opened the door.
A woman around forty stood on our porch.
The moment she saw me, she froze.
Then her eyes moved past me...
toward the three babies.
"Oh my God."
Alaric appeared behind me.
The woman's face twisted with anger.
"You told me she'd never bring them home."
I turned to my husband.
"What the hell is this?"
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May you like
Who is this woman — and what did Alaric promise her?
Comment **"NEXT"** if you want Part 2.
