Chapter 3 - The Lie His Mother Buried for Ten YearsBy midnight, photographs of Ethan standing beside the twins had appeared on every major entertainment website in Chicago.
The headlines were merciless.
BILLIONAIRE DISCOVERS SECRET TWINS AT CHARITY GALA.
SULLIVAN HEIRS REVEALED AFTER TEN YEARS.
THE FAMILY SECRET BEHIND CHICAGO'S MOST ELIGIBLE BILLIONAIRE.
But the photograph that bothered me most showed Sophie looking up at Ethan with an expression of cautious hope.
I knew that expression.
She wore it whenever she wanted something but was afraid of being disappointed.
And I would not let anyone break her heart.
The following morning, Ethan called.
I watched his name appear on my screen.
For ten years, I'd imagined that moment.
Now that it had arrived, I felt strangely calm.
"Hello?"
"Claire."
His voice sounded exhausted.
"Did I wake you?"
"No."
"Are the children all right?"
"They're eating breakfast."
A pause.
"Can I see them?"
"Not today."
"I understand."
His immediate acceptance surprised me.
Then he said, "Can I see you?"
I looked toward the kitchen.
Noah was explaining compound interest to Sophie using cereal pieces.
Sophie was eating the evidence.
"Why?"
"Because I need to apologize."
"You already did."
"Not properly."
I considered his request.
Finally, I agreed to meet him at Lucas's office.
When I arrived, Ethan was waiting alone.
No assistants.
No security team.
No expensive watch.
Just a tired man in a dark sweater, sitting beside a window.
He stood when I entered.
"Claire."
I remained near the door.
"Let's keep this simple."
He nodded.
"Whatever you want."
Lucas sat beside me.
Ethan looked at him.
"Are you representing Claire in a legal action?"
"Potentially several."
Ethan lowered his eyes.
"I expected that."
Lucas opened a folder.
"Let's begin with the divorce."
He placed a copy of the original financial complaint on the table.
Ethan studied it.
"I remember this."
"Do you remember verifying the alleged transfers yourself?"
Ethan hesitated.
"My mother said the bank had confirmed them."
"Did you speak to the bank?"
"No."
"Did you review the original authorization records?"
"No."
Lucas turned a page.
"Then you may be interested to know that the account receiving those funds belonged to a consulting company registered under a nominee. We have traced its beneficial ownership."
Ethan looked up.
"To whom?"
Lucas slid another document forward.
"Margaret Sullivan."
Ethan stared.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then he whispered, "That's impossible."
I felt an old anger rise inside me.
"That's exactly what I said when you accused me."
He closed his eyes.
Lucas continued.
"The transfers were authorized using credentials associated with your mother's financial administrator. The signatures attributed to Claire were inconsistent with her verified signatures."
Ethan pressed both hands against the table.
"Why wasn't this discovered?"
"Because Claire couldn't afford a prolonged legal battle, and your mother threatened criminal proceedings if she challenged the settlement."
He looked at me.
"You signed because you were afraid?"
"I signed because I was twenty-six, newly pregnant, nearly broke, and being threatened by people who had more money than I could imagine."
His face crumpled.
"Claire..."
"Don't."
He fell silent.
Lucas placed another folder on the table.
"There's more."
Inside were copies of letters.
My handwriting.
My desperate attempts to contact Ethan.
One was dated two weeks after the ultrasound.
Another included a photograph of two tiny shapes on a medical screen.
The final letter had been written shortly before the twins were born.
Ethan picked it up.
His hands trembled.
He read silently.
Then again.
A tear fell onto the page.
I remembered every word.
Ethan, I don't know whether you'll ever read this. I don't need your money. I don't need you to love me again. But these babies deserve to know their father, and you deserve to know they exist.
He looked at me.
"I never saw this."
"I know that now."
He swallowed.
"How?"
Lucas answered.
"Because your former executive assistant, Helen Price, kept copies of the correspondence your mother instructed her to intercept."
Ethan went still.
"Helen?"
"She contacted us six months ago."
"Why?"
"She was dying."
The room fell silent.
Helen had worked for Sullivan Group for nearly twenty years.
I remembered her as a quiet woman who always kept peppermint candies in her desk.
She had passed away in April.
Before her death, she had contacted Lucas and confessed that Margaret had instructed her to conceal my letters.
Helen had believed she was protecting Ethan from a fraudulent pregnancy claim.
By the time she realized the truth, Margaret had threatened her employment and retirement benefits.
She carried the guilt for a decade.
Before she died, she gave Lucas copies of everything.
Ethan covered his face.
"I trusted my mother."
I looked at him.
"More than you trusted your wife."
He nodded slowly.
"Yes."
It was the first completely honest answer he'd given me.
And somehow, it hurt more than his excuses.
Lucas cleared his throat.
"Mr. Sullivan, there's another issue."
He handed Ethan a financial statement.
Ethan examined it.
His expression changed.
"Where did you get this?"
"From records related to the early capitalization of Sullivan Group."
Ethan looked at me.
"Claire's inheritance?"
I nodded.
"Forty-two thousand dollars."
He remembered.
Of course he remembered.
It had been the money that kept his first company alive.
Lucas explained that the funds had been recorded as a capital contribution, but the ownership arrangement had never been properly documented.
When Margaret later reorganized the company, Claire's interest had disappeared from the internal records.
Ethan studied the figures.
"She removed Claire's name?"
"That's what the available documents suggest. We intend to investigate further."
Ethan stood abruptly.
He walked to the window.
For a long time, he said nothing.
Then he asked, "How much?"
Lucas answered carefully.
"Depending on the enforceability of the original agreements and subsequent transactions, the potential claim could be substantial."
"Give me a number."
Lucas told him.
Ethan turned.
His face had gone white.
"That's hundreds of millions."
I looked at him.
"Now do you understand why I didn't come here asking for money?"
He stared at me.
"What do you want, Claire?"
I thought about the tiny apartment.
The hospital bills.
The years I worked two jobs.
The nights Sophie cried with an ear infection while Noah slept feverishly against my shoulder.
Then I answered.
"I want you to understand what you took from us."
His eyes filled.
"And I want you to understand that no amount of money can buy those years back."
Ethan nodded.
"I know."
"No. You don't."
I stood.
"You know what it feels like to lose ten years in one evening. I know what it feels like to live every single one of them."
He had no answer.
As Lucas gathered the documents, Ethan spoke again.
"Claire?"
I stopped.
"Yes?"
"Do they hate me?"
The question caught me off guard.
I considered lying.
Instead, I told him the truth.
"Noah doesn't trust you. Sophie wants to."
Ethan looked down.
"And you?"
I opened the door.
"I haven't decided what I feel."
Outside the office, my phone rang.
It was my neighbor, Mrs. Reynolds, who had agreed to watch the twins.
"Claire, I'm sorry to bother you."
Something in her voice made my stomach tighten.
"What's wrong?"
"A woman came to the house."
"What woman?"
"An older lady. Beautiful coat. Very expensive car."
My blood went cold.
"What did she want?"
Mrs. Reynolds hesitated.
"She said she was the children's grandmother."
I gripped the phone.
"Where are Noah and Sophie?"
"They're inside with me."
"Lock the doors."
"Claire?"
"Do it now."
I turned toward Ethan.
His expression changed immediately.
"What happened?"
May you like
I stared at him.
"Your mother knows where my children live."
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