Part 4

The plants had died long ago, but I had never ordered anyone to throw the pots away.

I stood in front of them, remembering the way she used to brush dirt from her hands and smile whenever a new leaf appeared.

For the first time, I wondered how she had survived after leaving me.

I had given her nothing but pain.

She had rejected the money that could have made starting over effortless.

Had she struggled?

Had she found happiness?

Was she married to someone who treated her better?

The thought of another man loving her hurt more than I wanted to admit.

Several hours later, Daniel entered my study.

"I found her."

I rose immediately.

"Where?"

"She's still in Chicago."

My heart started beating faster.

"Doing what?"

"She owns a small flower shop in Lincoln Park."

I stared at him.

"A flower shop?"

"Yes, sir."

Something tightened inside my chest.

Claire had returned to the work she loved before marrying me.

"Is she married?"

"No."

I released a breath.

Then Daniel placed a photograph on my desk.

"There's something else."

The image showed Claire standing outside a modest storefront with flowers arranged along the sidewalk.

She looked different.

Her hair was shorter.

She wore a simple blue dress.

And she was smiling.

Not the careful smile she had worn during the final months of our marriage.

A real smile.

But it wasn't Claire who made my breath catch.

Two small children stood beside her.

A boy and a girl.

They appeared to be twins.

The little girl held a stuffed rabbit.

The boy clutched Claire's hand.

I stared at their faces.

The boy had dark hair.

His eyes were the same unusual gray as mine.

Even his serious expression reminded me of photographs taken when I was a child.

My fingers tightened around the picture.

"Who are they?"

Daniel hesitated.

"Her children."

My mouth went dry.

"How old?"

"Just over two years old, according to what I could confirm."

I looked up sharply.

"Two?"

"Yes, sir."

Three years since Claire left.

Two-year-old twins.

My mind began racing through dates.

The clinic envelope.

The blue folder.

The way Claire had repeatedly touched her stomach during our final argument.

I gripped the edge of my desk.

"Find out who their father is."

Daniel looked uncomfortable.

"I haven't found any public information identifying him."

I looked down at the photograph again.

The little girl's smile was unmistakably Claire's.

But the boy's face haunted me.

I had seen those eyes before.

Every morning.

In the mirror.

"Get the car."

Daniel blinked.

"Sir?"

"Now."

Minutes later, my Rolls-Royce was moving through Chicago.

Traffic lights blurred past the windows.

I held the photograph so tightly that its edges began to bend.

The closer we came to Lincoln Park, the harder it became to breathe.

Then the car stopped across from a little flower shop.

Through the front window, I saw Claire kneeling beside two children.

She was helping the little girl tie a ribbon around a bouquet.

The boy stood near her shoulder, watching with intense concentration.

Then Claire laughed.

I had forgotten how beautiful that sound was.

I opened the car door.

For a moment, I couldn't move.

My entire empire suddenly felt meaningless compared with the possibility standing behind that window.

I crossed the street.

As I reached the shop, the boy looked up.

His gray eyes met mine through the glass.

I stopped breathing.

Claire followed his gaze.

The ribbon slipped from her fingers.

Her face went completely white.

Then she rose slowly, moved the children behind her, and walked toward the door.

When she opened it, she stared at me without speaking.

I held up the photograph.

"Claire, I need to ask you something."

Her expression hardened.

"Alexander, you need to leave."

I looked past her at the children.

"Are they mine?"

She stepped into the doorway, blocking my view.

"Please don't do this here."

My voice broke.

"Claire, are those my children?"

For several seconds, she said nothing.

Then a tiny voice came from behind her.

"Mommy, why does that man look like Noah?"

Claire closed her eyes.

And when she opened them again, there were tears in them.

"Because," she whispered, "there's something about him you don't know."

PART 3: The Children I Never Knew

Claire's words left me standing motionless outside the flower shop while the little boy continued watching me with the same gray eyes I had inherited from my father.

For the first time in years, I couldn't find a single useful thing to say.

Claire looked over her shoulder.

"Noah, sweetheart, take Lily into the back room for a moment."

The boy frowned.

"Why?"

"Because Mommy needs to speak with someone."

Lily hugged her stuffed rabbit.

"Is he your friend?"

Claire's lips trembled.

"He used to be."

Those four words hurt more than any insult she could have given me.

The children disappeared behind a curtain.

Claire stepped outside and closed the door.

"What are you doing here?"

I lifted the photograph.

"I found out about the children."

Her expression tightened.

"How?"

"I asked someone to find you."

She stared at me.

"You had someone investigate my life?"

"I wanted to know if you were okay."

"After three years?"

I lowered my eyes.

"I know how that sounds."

"No, Alexander, I don't think you do."

Her voice remained quiet, but every word carried years of pain.

"You told me to leave, you made certain I understood I wasn't wanted, and then you disappeared."

"I know."

"You don't get to return because you're suddenly curious about my life."

I looked toward the shop window.

"Please tell me the truth."

Claire followed my gaze.

For a long moment, neither of us spoke.

Then she exhaled.

"Yes."

My heart seemed to stop.

"Yes?"

"Noah and Lily are your biological children."

I staggered backward.

The sidewalk felt strangely uneven beneath my feet.

Two children.

My son.

My daughter.

For more than two years, they had existed somewhere in the same city while I attended meetings, signed contracts, and congratulated myself on my achievements.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

The words escaped before I could stop them.

Claire stared at me in disbelief.

"Are you seriously asking me that?"

I pressed my hand against my forehead.

"I didn't know."

"You made sure I believed I couldn't have children, Alexander."

Her eyes filled with tears.

"Then, on the day I discovered I was pregnant, you told me you'd deliberately prevented me from becoming a mother."