I nodded. “Then what?”

She shrugged. “That’s the hard part. We don’t want to destroy them or donate them for research without the parents’ consent, but eventually, we’re going to have to make some hard decisions.” She paused. “Dr. Wright is a little behind, but he should be here shortly.”

I smiled cheerily, wanting more than anything for her to get the hell out of the room so I could snoop. “Please tell him to take his time,” I said. “And please reassure him I’ll be brief.”

As soon as the door closed, I practically pounced on the first page of that list. I didn’t know what I was looking for, but one of the hurdles I was facing was finding parents to interview for this article. I needed real-life patients to tell me why they’d decided to destroy their embryos, adopt them out, etc., and the listing I had placed on HARO, a website where journalists and sources connect, wasn’t doing much good. In this case, no one wanted to help a reporter out.

Maybe I would know someone on this list and could lead them into a discussion without their knowing I had broken all kinds of laws and without their doctor breaking HIPAA, which I was one hundred percent sure Dr. Wright wouldn’t do. This was the kind of office with a secret entrance for its high-profile patients.

I scanned the As, flipping quickly through the alphabet. When I got to the Ts, my eyes focused, and I gasped audibly. I heard a hand on the doorknob and practically flung myself into my seat, trying to look calm, even though my heart was racing out of my chest.

I breezed through my cursory list of questions. I just needed Dr. Wright as a quoted source on questions I knew the answers to, so it wasn’t that hard. I actually skipped a few because I needed to be alone with this moral dilemma.

I had seen a name on that list that I recognized. I wasn’t supposed to know that those embryos had been abandoned. It isn’t any of my business, I repeated to myself. But what if he didn’t know that his embryos were even here? What if a decision was made about them that he wouldn’t want?

As I walked out the door, I said nonchalantly to the nurse, “Thanks. And good luck.”

Without even looking up from her paperwork, she said, “Thanks, hon.”

I stopped on the street and took a deep breath, realizing that I was walking in the direction of a home that wasn’t mine anymore. I’d just check into the Breakers and luxuriate for a few breaths before I decided what to do. I stuck my thumb on my banking app. Nope. Maybe I’d check into the Colony instead. One of my friends, the marketing manager there, had promised me a too-good-to-be-true media rate if I ever wanted it.

I closed my eyes for just a moment, trying to make the swirling in my head—which had become so fast and furious I almost felt like I could see it—stop. All I could see was their names: Thaysden, Greer and Parker.