That phrase hurt.
“Finding your sons.”
Because I had not found them.
They had been alive the entire time.
Going to school.
Getting sick.
Learning to read.
Having birthdays.
Existing.
I was the absent variable.
PART 8
The door opened.
Leo entered first.
Ethan behind him.
Both still wearing gold medals.
I stood instinctively.
Leo looked at me.
“Sit.”
I almost obeyed before realizing a thirteen-year-old had ordered me to sit.
So I did.
Ethan looked toward Elena.
“Can we talk to him?”
She hesitated.
Then nodded.
“We’ll be outside.”
She and Adrian left.
The door closed.
My sons stood across from me.
I did not say that aloud.
They had not given me the right.
Leo spoke first.
“You know now?”
“Some.”
“Do you know we already knew?”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
Ethan answered.
“Since we were ten.”
My chest tightened.
“Why didn’t you contact me?”
Leo’s eyebrows rose.
The question sounded terrible the moment it left my mouth.
“I’m sorry.”
Leo said:
“You’re asking why children didn’t contact the adult who rejected them before they were born?”
“No.”
“I phrased that badly.”
“You think?”
Ethan almost smiled.
Leo did not.
PART 9
“Mom never told us to hate you.”
Ethan said.
I looked at him.
“What did she tell you?”
“That you believed a lie.”
Leo added:
“And that you chose not to test it.”
There it was.
Not Victoria.
Me.
I nodded.
“That’s true.”
Leo studied my face.
“You’re richer than I expected.”
Ethan elbowed him.
“What?”
Leo said.
“He is.”
I almost laughed.
Then remembered I had no right to find them charming.
Not yet.
Ethan asked:
“Why didn’t you get the test?”
I answered honestly.
“Because I was angry.”
“That’s stupid.”
“Yes.”
“Because you thought Mom cheated?”
“Yes.”
“Then why not prove it?”
I swallowed.
“Because I was afraid the test would prove I was wrong.”
Both boys went quiet.
That answer seemed to matter.
Not because it made me look better.
Because it didn’t.
PART 10
Leo took a step closer.
“You don’t get to call us sons.”
“I understand.”
“Not yet.”
“Yes.”
“And you don’t get to show up with money.”
I almost smiled sadly.
“Your mother warned you?”
“No.”
“We’ve seen your interviews.”
Fair.
Ethan touched his medal.
“We don’t need anything.”
“I know.”
Leo shook his head.
“You don’t know anything about us.”
Another accurate blow.
“So what do you want?”
I asked.
Leo stared.
“For you to understand why you threw us away.”
That was harder than asking forgiveness.
Much harder.
Because forgiveness could become about me.
Understanding required looking directly at what I had done.
PART 11
Victoria was waiting when I left Room C.
Her face was pale with fury.
“You humiliated me.”
I stared at her.
“How long?”
She froze.
“What?”
“How long did you know Elena was seeing Adrian as a doctor?”
She looked around.
“Not here.”
“Answer.”
“Julian—”
“Did you know?”
Her silence answered.
I felt something inside me collapse.
“You knew.”
“She was keeping secrets from you.”
“Medical secrets.”
“She was manipulating you.”
“You paid Lucas.”
Victoria’s face changed.
There it was.
“Who told you that?”
Not denial.
Question.
“Lucas signed an affidavit.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“That little coward.”
I almost laughed.
Thirteen years.
And she still could not resist confirming pieces herself.
PART 12
“You canceled the paternity appointment.”
“No.”
“From my office extension.”
“Anyone could have—”
“You controlled the extension.”
“So did assistants.”
“You were my assistant.”
She became furious.
“I was protecting you.”
That sentence.
The favorite sentence of people who control others.
“From what?”
“From Elena.”
“She was pregnant with my children.”
“You didn’t know that.”
“You made sure I didn’t.”
Victoria’s eyes filled.
“I loved you.”
I stared.
“No.”
She flinched.
“You wanted me.”
“That is not the same thing.”
PART 13
Victoria followed me into a private sponsor suite.
She closed the door.
“Fine.”
Her composure cracked.
“I knew Adrian was her doctor.”
I stared.
“She didn’t appreciate you.”
“That was your decision?”
“She complained constantly.”
“She hated your travel.”
“She hated your family.”
“She made you feel guilty for working.”
I said nothing.
Victoria continued.
“You were miserable.”
“So you fabricated an affair?”
“I showed you what was already there.”
“No.”
“You photographed appointments and told me they were romantic.”
“She met him privately!”
“He was her doctor.”
“She hid the pregnancy.”
“She was planning a surprise.”
Victoria laughed bitterly.
“You believe that?”
“I believe the email you sent him.”
She stopped.
That was the first time she looked truly frightened.
PART 14
Then she said:
“I did it because I loved you.”
I almost felt sick.
“You paid someone to follow my pregnant wife.”
“I was trying to make you see she wasn’t right for you.”
“You created anonymous accusations.”
“She would have ruined your life.”
“You canceled a paternity appointment.”
Her eyes shifted.
There.
Confirmation again.
I stepped back.
“You knew there might be children.”
She whispered:
“I thought once you married me it wouldn’t matter.”
That sentence ended our marriage.
Not legally.
That came later.
But emotionally.
Immediately.
PART 15
Then Preston walked in.
My son.
The boy I had raised for thirteen years.
His face was wet from crying.
He had heard enough.
“What children?”
Victoria went white.
“Preston.”
He looked at me.
“Do you have other sons?”
I closed my eyes briefly.
“Possibly.”
“Possibly?”
“Biologically, very likely.”
His face changed.
Then he asked the question I least expected.
“Does that mean last place matters now?”
I stared.
“What?”
He touched the ribbon around his neck.
A consolation ribbon.
“Because they got perfect scores.”
“And they’re yours.”
“And I came last.”
My heart cracked.
“No.”
He looked at Victoria.
She looked away.
I finally understood something else.
For years, we had forced Preston into competitions because Victoria needed him exceptional.
I had funded it.
Encouraged it.
Applauded every tutor.
Never asked whether he enjoyed any of it.
“What do you actually like doing?”
I asked.
He frowned.
“What?”
“School competition.”
“Do you like it?”
He looked terrified of the question.
Then whispered:
“No.”
I sat down.
“Then why are you doing this?”
He stared at his mother.
Then at me.
“Because you made me.”
PART 16
That sentence opened another door.
Preston loved music.
Drums.
Production software.
Sound editing.
I knew he had a drum kit.
I thought it was a hobby.
I had never asked.
Victoria called it distracting.
I accepted that.
I had repeated with Preston a quieter version of what my father once did with me.
Decide the future.
Fund it.
Call pressure opportunity.
I looked at the consolation ribbon.
“Does last place matter?”
