PART 1 Sienna Blake had told exactly one person the full truth about her son’s middle name. That person was Jade Torres, her closest friend and coworker, who had been with her in the delivery room, who had held her hand through twelve hours of labor, who had said at 3:41 in the morning, voice…
PART 1 Ellie Hart had been playing piano since she was six. She had played in recitals, competitions, university recital halls, a children’s hospital in Evanston, three different NICU wards, and — since the incident at Northwestern Children’s eight months ago — the back corner of the restaurant bar at Bellavita, where the lounge pianist…
PART 1 Ruth Navarro had worked thirty-one years in a hospital and had learned to read rooms the way other women read faces. The delivery suite on the fourth floor of Northwestern Memorial had its own language: the speed of nurses’ footsteps, the pitch of monitor alarms, the specific silence that fell when a doctor…
PART 1 My press badge expired four years ago. I found it at the back of the closet on a Tuesday morning, behind Preston’s winter coats, which smelled faintly of something that was not his cologne. The badge was clipped to the lanyard I had worn to three mayoral press conferences, two federal indictments, and…
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