“What?”
“Serena.”
Laura looked at the papers.
“She stood outside the entrance. She told me if I kept trying to contact you, she would make sure I left the hospital with nothing.”
I whispered, “Why didn’t you report her?”
“To who?”
That question silenced me.
“Your security people believed her. Your lawyers believed you. I had no money. No house. No husband. I was pregnant with twins, Grant.”
She looked directly at me.
“You had already taught everyone around you that I was a liar.”
There was nothing I could say to that.
One of the babies stirred.
Laura immediately leaned down.
Her voice softened.
“Hey, sweetheart.”
The baby settled again.
I watched her.
Then I asked the question I was afraid to ask.
“Are they mine?”
Laura stared at me.
“Yes.”
My chest tightened.
“I’ll do a DNA test,” she continued. “Not for you. For them.”
I nodded quickly.
“Whatever you want.”
“And if it confirms you’re their father, that does not give you permission to take over my life.”
“I understand.”
“No. Listen first.”
So I listened.
“No showing up at my apartment.”
“Okay.”
“No sending employees to watch us.”
“Okay.”
“No gifts designed to make me feel obligated.”
“Okay.”
“No threatening custody because you have more money.”
My stomach turned.
“I would never—”
She gave me a look.
I stopped.
Because a year earlier I would have sworn I would never throw my pregnant wife out either.
“Okay,” I said.
“Support goes through attorneys.”
“Yes.”
“You see the twins when we agree it’s appropriate.”
“Yes.”
“You do not use them to repair your reputation.”
“Never.”
“And you never bring Serena near them.”
That one was easy.
“She will never come near you again.”
Laura’s expression changed slightly.
“You’re sure?”
I slid the security logs across the table.
“I’m very sure.”
The DNA results came five days later.
Probability of paternity: 99.99%.
I was sitting alone when I read it.
I did not celebrate.
There was nothing to celebrate.
A father discovering his sons almost a year late is not a miracle.
It is an accounting.
A list of everything he missed.
First breaths.
First nights home.
First smiles.
First fevers.
First time rolling over.
First laugh.
I printed the result.
Then I sat in my office for nearly an hour.
At 4:10 that afternoon, I called Serena.
“Come to the office.”
Her voice immediately brightened.
“Ooh. Serious tone. Am I in trouble?”
“Yes.”
Silence.
Then she laughed.
“I’ll be there in twenty.”
Serena entered my conference room wearing a cream dress and carrying the handbag I had bought her in Paris.
She kissed my cheek.
I didn’t move.
Marcus sat at one end of the table.
Two attorneys sat at the other.
Serena looked around.
