I adopted twin baby girls I found wrapped in towels in a beach changing stall—on their 18th birthday, they handed me those same towels and whispered, “Dad…

She looked at her sister.

Grace said, “Chris.”

The room tilted.

“Chris?” I said.

“Chris from the beach?

Chris who drove me there?”

“Yes.”

“Why would his name be on a hospital bracelet?”

“Because he’s the one who brought us to you, Dad.”

I sat down on the kitchen floor.

I didn’t choose to sit.

My legs just stopped working.

Emily knelt beside me.

“There’s more.

In the box.

We found a second envelope.

It’s addressed to you.

We didn’t open it.

We wanted you to read it with us.”

She reached into the pink towel — the one she’d been holding — and pulled out a small white envelope.

My name was on the front.

Naomi’s handwriting.

I stared at it for a long time.

“Dad,” Grace said.

“We need to call Chris.”

“Not yet.”

“He’s part of this.

You know he is.”

“I know he is.

That’s why I need to read this first.”

I opened the envelope.

Inside was a single page.