On the dusty shoulder of Route 47 lay a young woman, unconscious, her body fragile against the ground.
Beside her stood two identical toddlers, crying uncontrollably. Their sobs were raw and desperate, small hands reaching toward passing vehicles that never stopped.
The world kept moving.
Until a sleek black Mercedes-Benz S-Class braked hard, tires screeching.
Nathan Reed stepped out, irritation written across his sharp features. At thirty-five, he was the CEO of one of the largest real estate development firms in California. His tailored suit and polished shoes looked out of place against the grit of the roadside. Time was always his most valuable asset.
At first, he thought only of delays. Another accident. Another inconvenience.
Then he saw the children.
Two bright blue eyes—twice over—staring straight at him.
He felt something tighten in his chest.
Nathan crouched down. The twins’ pale blond hair clung to their sweaty foreheads. Their faces were smudged with dirt and tears.
One of them reached toward him.
“Daddy…” the child whispered instinctively.
The word hit him like a blow.
He stared harder. The curve of their noses. The shape of their lips. The unmistakable shade of their eyes.