Chapter 2 - The Two Boys on the Country Road
I found Maren just before dawn.
Not because I was clever.
Because the universe seemed determined to punish me with every answer I had ignored.
Her car was parked behind an old church outside Franklin.
The building had been closed for years.
I saw her sitting on the wooden steps with the twins wrapped in blankets beside her.
She looked exhausted.
She looked cold.
And when she heard my footsteps, she didn't look surprised.
“You came.”
I stopped several feet away.
“You knew I would.”
She looked at me.
“I hoped you would.”
The words broke something inside me.
I moved closer.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“Tell you what?”
“That they're mine.”
She looked down at the twins.
“They are.”
“How long have you known?”
“Since the day they were born.”
“And you never called?”
“I did.”
I froze.
“What?”
“I called you.”
“When?”
“More than once.”
“You never reached me.”
“I reached your assistant.”
I said nothing.
“Then Tessa called me.”
“What did she say?”
Maren looked away.
“She told me you had already moved on.”
“That doesn't mean you should hide my children.”
“She also told me your lawyer had orders.”
“My lawyer?”
“She said if I contacted you, you would sue me for custody.”
I stared.
“I never said that.”
“I know now.”
She looked up.
“I didn't know then.”
The twins stirred.
One began to whimper.
Maren immediately picked him up.
The way she moved made something ache inside me.
Natural.
Gentle.
Protective.
She kissed his forehead.
“His name is Ethan.”
My throat tightened.
“And the other?”
“Evan.”
I crouched beside her.
“Can I…”
She hesitated.
Then nodded.
I reached out.
Maren carefully placed Ethan in my arms.
The baby opened his eyes.
Blue-gray.
My mother's eyes.
I couldn't speak.
I had spent fifteen years building a company.
Hundreds of millions of dollars.
Thousands of employees.
Luxury homes.
Cars.
Awards.
And none of it had ever made me feel what I felt in that moment.
The baby gripped my finger.
I started crying.
Maren looked away.
“I didn't know what to do,” she whispered.
“You should have told me.”
“I was afraid.”
“Of me?”
“Of the person you were becoming.”
I looked at her.
She wasn't accusing me.
She was simply telling the truth.
“I thought you hated me.”
“I did.”
She swallowed.
“Then I realized you weren't the man I married.”
“What changed you?”
“Tessa.”
She looked down.
“She showed me emails between you and her.”
“What emails?”
“Messages where you supposedly said you wanted me gone.”
“I never wrote those.”
“I know.”
“Now.”
She sighed.
“Back then, I believed them.”
I handed Ethan back.
“Tell me about the third baby.”
Maren went completely still.
“You found out.”
“There's a note.”
Her face changed.
“Who told you?”
“Glenn.”
“Glenn?”
“He had the divorce files.”
Maren closed her eyes.
“They know.”
“Who?”
She stood.
“The people who took him.”
I felt my blood run cold.
“Who took who?”
Maren started crying.
“Our third baby.”
I couldn't breathe.
“Third?”
She nodded.
“You were pregnant with triplets?”
“Yes.”
I stared at the twins.
Triplets.
Three children.
Not two.
“What happened?”
Maren wiped her face.
“They told me he was stillborn.”
“Who?”
“At the hospital.”
“What hospital?”
“Saint Matthew's.”
“What year?”
“Last year.”
I felt sick.
“How did he die?”
“They said respiratory failure.”
“But?”
“There was no body.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
“They told me he was taken to pathology.”
“And?”
“Two days later, they gave me paperwork.”
“No body?”
“No.”
My voice shook.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“I tried.”
“How?”
“I called your office.”
“And?”
“Your secretary told me you didn't want to hear from me.”
I closed my eyes.
Tessa.
The thought hit like lightning.
Tessa had controlled the calls.
She had intercepted my mail.
She had paid my investigator.
She had fabricated evidence.
What else had she controlled?
Maren reached into her bag.
She pulled out a hospital bracelet.
It was tiny.
Infant size.
There was a name on it.
Baby Bellamy.
Male.
I stared.
“Where did you get this?”
“They gave it to me when I left.”
“What was his name?”
“They hadn't named him yet.”
I held the bracelet.
My hands trembled.
“What did they say?”
“That he was born alive.”
I looked at her.
“But they told you he died.”
“Yes.”
“Who was his doctor?”
“Dr. Samuel Whitaker.”
I knew that name.
Samuel Whitaker was on the board of a private medical foundation I had funded six years earlier.
I felt suddenly sick.
“Why didn't I know about the pregnancy?”
“Tessa.”
“Again.”
“She had access to everything.”
I stood.
“We're going to the hospital.”
Maren shook her head.
“They'll lie.”
“Not anymore.”
We drove together.
For the first time in over a year, I sat beside my ex-wife.
Neither of us spoke much.
The twins slept in the back.
Every few minutes, I checked the mirror.
I couldn't stop looking at them.
My sons.
My children.
And somewhere out there, possibly another child.
My child.
When we arrived at Saint Matthew's, the records office was closed.
I called the hospital administrator.
When he heard my name, he answered immediately.
“Mr. Bellamy.”
“I need the maternity records for Maren Bellamy.”
There was silence.
Then:
“Those records are confidential.”
“I am the father.”
“According to the file…”
“What does it say?”
He hesitated.
“According to the file, you are not listed.”
My chest tightened.
“Send me the records.”
“I can't.”
“Then I will have a court order by noon.”
The line went silent.
Then he said:
“There was an irregularity.”
“What kind?”
“Your wife's records were amended.”
“When?”
“Eleven months ago.”
Maren looked at me.
Eleven months.
The exact time Glenn's file disappeared.
“What was changed?”
“The number of infants.”
I stared at the administrator.
“How many were originally recorded?”
He whispered:
“Three.”
Everything went silent.
“And the amended record?”
“Two.”
I looked at Maren.
She was crying.
The twins were asleep behind us.
Three babies had been born.
Only two were officially recorded.
I clenched my jaw.
“Give me the name of the person who authorized the amendment.”
The administrator refused.
I slammed the phone down.
Then I called my attorney.
“Get me an emergency court order.”
“For what?”
“Medical records.”
“What happened?”
“I just found out my children may have been stolen.”
The lawyer went silent.
“I'll handle it.”
I ended the call.
Maren touched my arm.
“Rowan.”
I turned.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For believing me.”
I looked at her.
“I don't deserve your gratitude.”
“Maybe not.”
She smiled sadly.
“But the boys deserve their father.”
I looked at the twins.
“Yes.”
Then I looked at her.
“And the third one deserves to be found.”
May you like
She nodded.
That became our promise.
