Tyler and Jason join us in time to see my parents fawning over their first grandchildren.

“All right, Tyler,” Mom says, cutting to the chase. The attorney in her is coming out. “Tell us what’s going on.”

Tyler reaches into his jacket breast pocket and pulls out the blackmail letter. He carefully pulls it out of the envelope, unfolds it, and hands it to my mother.

She quickly scans the paper. “Good Lord. Martin, look at this.” She hands the note to my father, whose expression darkens as he reads it.

My dad’s gaze goes immediately to Tyler, and the two men stare at each other in silent communication.

“What is it?” Layla asks as she moves in to get a glimpse at the note. “What’s going on?”

“It’s nothing, sweetheart,” Dad says as he begins to fold the sheet of paper so she can’t read it.

Layla snatches the page from his grasp, reads it, and then hands it to Jason. “Now what?” she demands. “What are we going to do about this?”

We.

I love my sister. She has more health challenges than any young woman her age should have to deal with, but she always puts others first.

“That’s why we’re here,” Tyler says glancing first at my mom, and then at my dad. “What can you tell us about Ian’s birth mother?”

Mom frowns. “You think she’s behind this?”

Tyler shrugs. “Right now, she’s the prime suspect. Who else would have pictures of Ian’s early childhood? So, what do you know about her?”

Mom gazes down at Lizzie, sighing as she gathers her thoughts. “It’s been so long. And honestly, we didn’t know much about her. Her name is Rhonda Mitchell. She was twenty-four when Ian first went into the foster care system and was placed with us. Children’s Services got involved when a neighbor complained that a young child was crying on and off throughout the nights.

She was charged with child neglect and endangerment, as well as prostitution and illegal drug use. She attempted to get herself cleaned up and off drugs so she could get Ian back, and at one point, he did go back to her. But it didn’t last long. When she resumed her old habits, the state terminated her parental rights, and we were allowed to adopt him. We attempted to keep in touch with her. I sent her several letters when she was in prison, sharing updates and pictures of Ian. But frankly, she wasn’t in a good state of mind at the time. After a couple of years, we lost touch, and we never heard from her again.”

“How are you planning to handle this, Tyler?” Dad asks. “Are you going to the police?”

Everyone’s talking about me and around me, like I’m not even in the room. I throw my hands up in the air. “Hello! I’m right here!”

Dad softens his expression as his eyes land on me. “I know you are, son,” he says consolingly. “But let’s be honest. This is something for Tyler to deal with. Right?”

I frown because he’s not wrong. “Yes. But still.”

Tyler takes my hand and squeezes it as he pulls me close. With one look at him, I can read his thoughts—Please, let me handle this, babe. Let me take care of this—of you.

I nod. “Okay.”

“I’m of two minds,” Tyler says, quickly switching gears as he addresses my parents. “I don’t know if we should involve the police or if I should handle this myself. Do we want to bring charges? Would that help matters or just make things worse?”

Mom holds her hand out, and Jason deposits the letter in her hand. She reads it once more. “In general, there’s not enough here to warrant extortion charges,” she says, putting on her prosecutor hat. “Not from the letter alone. You’d have to actually pay the blackmailer. And then, yes, we could bring charges. But even then—”

“Given Ian’s financial standing in this city,” my dad says, “—not to mention the fact his father is a federal judge and his mother is an assistant district attorney—the police will surely act. They wouldn’t dare ignore this.”

“But then we’re possibly dealing with a public trial,” Ruth says, her gaze turning tome. “Unless, of course, the defendant pleads guilty. And there’s no guaranteeing that will happen. I think it’s fair to say we all want to spare Ian from having to testify in a trial.”

“Then no charges,” Tyler says. “I want to keep Ian’s name out of the news. My objective, besides putting a stop to the harassment, is to minimize the impact this has on him.”

When Will starts fussing, Dad hands him to me. “I agree. We want to keep Ian’s name out of the news.”

Charles knocks on the open door. “If everyone is ready, dinner is served.”

* * *

While we’re seated at the dining table, enjoying lasagna, fresh garlic bread, and salad, the babies are dozing in a pair of matching bassinettes that my mother purchased for just such an occasion. She was more than ready for our first visit.