Chapter 6: They Stole Five Years of My Children's Lives
The words on the DNA report refused to make sense.
Probability of biological paternity: 99.9998%.
Father: Ethan Alexander Harrison.
I read them again.
And again.
Surely I had misunderstood.
Surely there had been some mistake.
My hands were trembling so violently that the paper rattled.
"This..."
My voice cracked.
"This can't be real."
Samuel Brooks didn't answer immediately.
He simply watched me with the sadness of a man who had carried someone else's secret for far too long.
"I verified the report myself," he said quietly.
"Twice."
"It came from one of the best genetic laboratories in Illinois."
I looked back down at the page.
Collection date.
Nine months earlier.
Testing requested by...
Hannah Parker.
"No..."
I whispered.
"She knew."
Samuel nodded.
"She found out after her first prenatal appointment."
My mind raced backward.
Five years ago.
The last night Hannah and I had spent together.
The night before everything fell apart.
The night we promised forever.
The night I believed would become the beginning of our future.
Instead...
It became our goodbye.
She had already been carrying our children.
She just hadn't known it yet.
"When..."
I struggled to form the words.
"When did she discover she was pregnant?"
"Almost six weeks after your breakup."
The room tilted.
Six weeks.
By then I had already thrown her out of my life.
I had ignored her calls.
Believed the lies.
Refused to listen.
She had probably been terrified.
Alone.
Heartbroken.
And then a doctor had looked at her and said,
"Congratulations. You're having twins."
Twins.
Our twins.
I covered my face with both hands.
"Oh, God..."
A father.
I had been a father for months without knowing.
I had missed every ultrasound.
Every doctor's appointment.
Every first kick.
Every frightened night when she wondered whether the babies would be healthy.
She had faced all of it...
Alone.
Because of me.
No.
Because of my family.
"I need to know everything."
Samuel sat across from me.
"I expected you would."
He removed another folder.
"This is the complete timeline."
The first page contained copies of prenatal records.
Every appointment.
Every blood test.
Every ultrasound.
Attached to each image was a handwritten note.
I recognized the handwriting instantly.
Hannah's.
Week 10
They both have heartbeats.
I cried all the way home.
Week 14
Baby A wouldn't stop moving.
I think she already has Ethan's stubborn personality.
My vision blurred.
She had written my name.
Not with anger.
Not with hatred.
With love.
Week 18
The doctor says they're healthy.
I wish their father could see this.
A tear landed on the paper.
Then another.
I couldn't stop them.
There were dozens of entries.
Every milestone.
Every fear.
Every dream.
One page held a tiny ultrasound photograph taped beside a note.
If they're anything like you, they'll always try to help people.
I hope they inherit your heart.
I broke.
Completely.
The sob escaped before I could stop it.
I had cried exactly three times in my adult life.
The day I buried my grandfather.
The day I graduated from medical school.
And now.
Because a woman I had betrayed still believed I had a good heart.
Samuel quietly waited until I could breathe again.
Then he spoke.
"There's something else."
I looked up.
"Hannah tried to tell you."
"When?"
"The first time she came to your parents' house."
I remembered that rainy night.
She had stood outside the gates.
Soaked.
Crying.
Begging.
I had refused to listen.
"What did she want to say?"
Samuel's expression darkened.
"She had just found out about the pregnancy."
The world stopped.
No.
No...
I remembered every word.
"Ethan, please. Just let me explain."
"Please... just five minutes."
"There's something you need to know."
I had answered without even looking at her.
"Leave."
My knees nearly gave out.
She wasn't trying to save our relationship.
She was trying to tell me...
I was going to be a father.
"After that?"
Samuel continued.
"She wrote you fourteen letters."
"Fourteen?"
"They never reached you."
My breathing quickened.
"What happened to them?"
"They were intercepted."
"By who?"
He didn't have to answer.
I already knew.
My family.
Again.
He handed me a bundle tied together with faded blue ribbon.
"I kept copies."
I untied the ribbon carefully.
The first letter began,
Ethan,
I know you hate me.
But before you decide never to see me again, there's something you deserve to know.
I'm pregnant.
My heart felt as though someone had crushed it.
The next letter.
I went to your apartment today.
Security wouldn't let me inside.
Another.
Your mother says you've moved overseas.
I don't believe her.
Another.
They're twins.
Another.
I heard you're becoming one of Chicago's best surgeons.
I'm proud of you.
Another.
They both kicked today.
I laughed because one of them kept kicking exactly where you used to rest your hand.
Another.
I'm scared.
But I'll love them enough for both of us until the truth finds you.
I could barely see through the tears.
She had never stopped believing the truth would reach me.
A knock interrupted us.
Detective Alvarez entered.
"I'm sorry."
She stopped when she saw my face.
"I didn't realize..."
Samuel quietly closed the folder.
"What is it, Detective?"
She looked toward the closed ICU door.
"We identified the security badge."
Every muscle in my body tightened.
"And?"
"It wasn't stolen."
"What?"
"It was assigned."
"To whom?"
She opened her notebook.
"The badge belongs to Daniel Mercer."
The name meant nothing to me.
Samuel suddenly stood.
His chair scraped loudly against the floor.
"No..."
He looked genuinely frightened.
"No, that's impossible."
"You know him?"
Samuel slowly nodded.
"Unfortunately."
"Who is he?"
"He worked for your father."
Cold spread through my chest.
"What did he do?"
Samuel looked directly into my eyes.
"For twenty years..."
"...he handled problems."
"What kind of problems?"
The attorney hesitated.
Then answered.
"The kind that disappear."
The detective continued.
"We're trying to locate him."
"When was he last seen?"
"Yesterday morning."
"Where?"
She looked down at her notes.
"He entered Harrison Biotech headquarters."
My family's company.
Of course.
My father.
No...
Please...
Not this.
Anything but this.
I looked toward Hannah's room.
She was sleeping peacefully.
Completely unaware that someone connected to my family had just tried to murder our daughter.
Our daughter.
The words still felt unreal.
I had a son.
I had a daughter.
I should have been teaching them to ride bicycles someday.
Reading bedtime stories.
Holding Hannah's hand while we argued over baby names.
Instead...
Someone had stolen all of it.
I walked back into Hannah's room.
She opened her eyes almost immediately.
"You've been crying."
I smiled weakly.
"So have you."
She reached toward me.
I took her hand.
"I know."
Her face became very still.
"Know what?"
I could barely speak.
"I know they're mine."
Silence.
Absolute silence.
Fresh tears filled her eyes.
"I never wanted you to find out like this."
"You should have told me."
"I tried."
"I know."
"They wouldn't let me."
"I know."
"I wrote."
"I read every letter."
She stared at me in confusion.
"What letters?"
Samuel stepped quietly into the room behind me.
"I kept copies."
Hannah covered her mouth.
"You..."
"I couldn't destroy them."
She began crying openly.
For several minutes no one spoke.
Then, through tears, she whispered,
"I named them."
I smiled.
"What are their names?"
She looked toward the NICU through the glass window.
"The girl..."
"...is Grace."
I nodded.
"Grace."
"It means the gift I never deserved."
"And the boy..."
She looked back at me.
"...is Noah."
I smiled through tears.
"I love them already."
"They'll love you too."
"I don't deserve that."
She squeezed my hand.
"Maybe not."
A tiny smile appeared.
"But they've already been waiting for their daddy."
Before I could answer, every light in Hannah's ICU room suddenly went dark.
The monitors shut off.
The ventilators across the unit fell silent.
A hospital-wide emergency alarm began blaring.
POWER FAILURE.
Nurses shouted from every direction.
"Backup generators didn't activate!"
The entire floor descended into chaos.
Then, through the darkness, I saw a single figure standing motionless outside Hannah's room.
A man wearing hospital scrubs.
A surgical mask.
And around his neck...
A Harrison Foundation identification badge.
This time...
May you like
He wasn't walking toward the NICU.
He was walking straight toward Hannah.
