Page 55 of Silver Fox's Secret Triplets
She left me with instructions and a prescription for a nebulizer treatment, warning me to watch for signs of breathing distress. After she left, I felt marginally better but still terrified.
Lauren stayed until the other two were finally asleep on the pull-out couch, their small bodies curled together under the hotel's thin blankets. Sammy had dozed fitfully in my arms, his breathing still labored but stable.
"You should get some rest," Lauren said softly, gathering her purse.
"Thank you for everything tonight. I don't know what I would have done without you."
She squeezed my hand. "That's what friends are for. Call me if you need anything, okay?"
After she left, I settled into the hotel's uncomfortable armchair with Sammy cradled against my chest. The room was quiet except for the hum of the air conditioning and the soft sounds of the girls sleeping. I felt emotionally drained,overwhelmed by the evening's dramatic shift from elegant gala to crisis management.
My phone buzzed on the side table. Duncan's name appeared on the screen, and my heart lurched. I'd completely forgotten about him in my panic to get to Sammy. He'd probably been standing in that coat closet wondering what had happened.
I answered on the second ring, my voice barely above a whisper. "Hello."
"Why did you run out on me?" His voice was low, controlled, but I could hear the tension underneath.
I closed my eyes, my pulse spiking. How could I explain this without revealing everything? "I had a family emergency."
"What kind of emergency?" The question came sharp and immediate.
"Duncan, I?—"
"Ivy," he said again, his tone more demanding. "What the hell is going on?”
“I swear I’ll tell you everything. You just… Please don’t be angry at me.”
22
DUNCAN
Iended the call and stared at my phone, her voice still echoing in my ears. The controlled desperation I'd heard told me everything I needed to know—this wasn't about work or family dinner plans. This was a real crisis, and she was handling it alone.
The hotel address came through in a text message five minutes later, along with a room number. I didn't bother changing out of my tuxedo. I grabbed my keys and drove through the city streets faster than I should have, my mind spinning with possibilities.
The hotel was a standard business chain, the kind of place corporate travelers stayed when they needed functional rather than luxurious. I took the elevator to the third floor and found her room at the end of the hallway. The muffled sound of a child coughing came through the door before I even knocked.
She opened it almost immediately, and I felt my breath catch. Ivy looked exhausted, her hair falling out of its elegant updo, her face pale with worry. She'd changed out of her navy dress into jeans and a wrinkled sweater, but it was the small child clinging to her hip that made my world tilt sideways.
The little girl had dark hair and enormous hazel eyes, and she was staring at me with the solemn curiosity of a toddler. Behind Ivy, I could see two other small forms curled together on the hotel bed, fast asleep.
"Duncan," she whispered, shifting the child to her other hip. "Thank you for coming."
I stepped into the room and closed the door behind me, my eyes taking in the scene. The space felt cramped and chaotic—a diaper bag sat open on the floor next to bottles of children's medicine, toys scattered across the carpet, and the faint smells of fever and exhaustion hanging in the air.
On the bed, wrapped in a hotel blanket, lay a small boy who was clearly sick. His cheeks were flushed with fever, and every few seconds, he coughed in his sleep. The sound was harsh and congested, the kind that made your chest ache in sympathy.
"What happened?" I asked, though my voice came out rougher than I intended.
Ivy shifted the little girl again, who had buried her face against Ivy's shoulder. "This is Elena," she said quietly. "The two on the bed are Chrissy and Sammy. Sammy spiked a fever tonight, and his breathing got really bad."
I nodded, still trying to process what I was seeing. "You said it was a family emergency."
"It is." Her voice was barely above a whisper. "My mom's immune system is compromised from the chemotherapy. We couldn't risk keeping the kids at the house if Sammy has something contagious."
The pieces began falling into place. The panicked phone call from her father. The way she'd fled the gala without explanation. The terror in her eyes when she'd seen his name on her phone.
"So you brought them here," I said, gesturing around the small hotel room.
