My triplets refused to blow out their birthday candles until I set a fourth place at the table.

The front door clicked shut. Adam locked the deadbolt, pulled down the shades, and stood in the dark foyer with his hands trembling violently.

On the dining table lay the manila folder. Two million dollars. A new life. Safety for Caleb, Nora, and Tess.

Or total destruction.

"Adam," I whispered, tears spilling down my cheeks. "He’s going to take our children."

Adam walked to the table, picked up the manila folder, and tore it in half.

The heavy cardstock ripped with a sharp, violent sound. He tore it again, and again, until the cashier's check and the legal contracts were a pile of white confetti on the hardwood floor.

"He doesn't get to buy our daughter," Adam said, his eyes burning with an incandescent fury. "He doesn't get to erase June for two million dollars. We fight him, Rachel. If we lose everything, we lose it on our feet."

Suddenly, the kitchen door swung open.

My mother stood in the doorway, her face pale. Behind her, standing in their flannel pajamas, were Caleb, Nora, and Tess.

They weren't asleep. They had heard everything.

Nora walked forward, her small bare feet padding softly against the floorboards. She looked down at the shredded paper, then up at Adam and me.

"Is the other sister coming home, Mommy?" she asked.

My heart shattered. I dropped to my knees, wrapping my arms around Nora, burying my face in her soft curls. Caleb and Tess stepped in, wrapping their small arms around my neck and Adam's legs.

"We're trying, baby," I sobbed. "We're trying so hard to bring her home."

Caleb pulled back, his young face serious and grim. "The bad man on the porch said June's name was Maya."

Adam knelt beside me, placing a hand on his son's shoulder. "Her real name is June. But someone took her when she was very small, Caleb."

"Then we have to go get her," Caleb said, as if the solution were the simplest thing in the world. "Like in the stories. You don't leave your sister behind."

Tess reached into her pajama pocket. She pulled out the crumpled yellow paper birthday hat from Friday’s party. She had smoothed out the creases with her hands, pressing it flat beneath her pillow.

She handed it to me.

"Give this to her when you see her, Mommy," Tess whispered. "Tell her we saved her cake."

I clutched the yellow paper hat against my chest, feeling the small, unbreakable spirit of my family surging through the dark house. Victor Sterling had billions of dollars, private security armies, and corrupted politicians.

But he didn't have this. He didn't have four children tied together by blood, soul, and seven years of unyielding love.

"We need more leverage," Adam said, standing up, his fear completely burned away, replaced by cold steel. "A DNA test gives us legal standing. But to break Sterling's shield before Monday morning, we need the architect."

"Dr. Vance," I said, rising to my feet.

"Evelyn said Vance left St. Jude’s three years ago," Adam said, pulling out his phone. "Where is he practicing now?"

"He isn't," my mother spoke up from the doorway, her voice tight. "When you two were in Oakridge this afternoon, I called my old bridge partner whose brother sits on the state medical board. Kenneth Vance surrendered his medical license two years ago. He runs a private, cash-only fertility consultancy out of an office in the old harbor district."