Chapter 6 - TWO FACES IN THE CROWD
I stopped breathing. The glowing screen of my laptop blurred as tears—hot, furious, and utterly devastating—welled in my eyes. The math was violently simple. I stared at the dates, the names, the blank space where my name should have been. Twins. I had sons. For four years, I had two little boys walking the earth, breathing, growing, learning to speak, and I had been robbed of every single second of it.
The initial shock was instantly swallowed by a tidal wave of righteous, explosive anger. How could she? How could she hide my own flesh and blood from me? I stood up so fast my chair crashed backward onto the floor. I grabbed my keys, my mind racing with thoughts of lawsuits, full custody battles, and destroying the quiet life she had built. I was Julian Foster. No one hid my children from me.
But as I reached the door of my penthouse, my hand froze on the brass handle.
I looked at my reflection in the polished metal. I saw the anger in my eyes, the ruthless corporate predator ready to go to war. And then, Audrey’s voice echoed in my head: You still think you can buy, bully, or manipulate your way into getting what you want.
If I stormed into Oregon with an army of lawyers, I would confirm every terrible thing she believed about me. I would rip those boys from the only safe environment they had ever known. I would traumatize them just to satisfy my own ego. My anger slowly evaporated, replaced by a crushing, agonizing guilt. She hadn't hidden them out of malice. She had hidden them out of protection. She was protecting them from me.
I didn't call my lawyers. I called my pilot.
I flew back to Oregon, not as a CEO demanding a hostile takeover, but as a ghost haunting the edges of a life I was desperate to be part of. I rented an unassuming car and parked half a mile down the coastal highway from The Sapphire Point Inn. I waited. For two days, I sat in that car, drinking stale coffee, watching the property through binoculars like a desperate criminal.
On the afternoon of the third day, the heavy fog lifted, and the sun broke through the clouds. The back doors of the inn opened, leading out to the sprawling green lawn that overlooked the cliffs.
Audrey stepped out, wearing a thick wool sweater, carrying a picnic basket. And then, they followed her.
Two little boys, identical, with mops of unruly dark hair that matched my own perfectly. They were wearing tiny yellow rainboots, chasing a golden retriever puppy across the wet grass, their high-pitched laughter carrying on the salty wind. I lowered the binoculars. My hands were shaking so violently I dropped them onto the floorboard.
I opened the car door and stepped out onto the gravel shoulder. I couldn't stop myself. My feet moved on their own, carrying me down the highway, down the dirt path, until I was standing at the edge of the property line, hidden behind a row of ancient pine trees.
I watched Audrey kneel on the grass, wrapping her arms around both of them, kissing their foreheads. The sheer, overwhelming beauty of the scene broke something fundamental inside of me. My knees gave out. I sank into the damp earth behind the trees, buried my face in my hands, and wept. I wept for the five anniversaries I had missed, for the first steps I never saw, for the father I wasn't.
Suddenly, a rustling sound broke through my quiet sobs.
May you like
I looked up. Standing not ten feet away from me, peering around the trunk of a pine tree, was one of the boys. Leo or Liam, I didn't know. He had my nose. He had Audrey's eyes. He was holding a small, muddy stick, staring at me with intense, fearless curiosity.
"Why are you crying, mister?" the little boy asked, his voice a soft, innocent chime that stopped my heart dead in my chest.
