FOUR BOYS WALKED INTO THE RESTAURANT WITH MY FACE—AND THEIR MOTHER WAS THE WOMAN I HAD LOST SIX YEARS AGO

For several seconds, neither Isabella nor I moved.

The word embryos seemed to hang in the apartment like something poisonous.

I looked at her.

"What did you just say?""

She pressed both hands against the kitchen counter.

"Your grandfather knew about the embryos before I did.""

"Isabella, I need you to explain.""

She shook her head.

"I don't know how.""

"Start at the beginning.""

Her eyes filled.

"After your father died, I was terrified. I was pregnant with four babies, I had no idea whether you were alive or whether your family would hurt me, and I was barely sleeping. Then your grandfather's lawyer contacted me.""

"Richard?""

She nodded.

"He told me there was a medical file connected to your father. He said Anthony had arranged something before he died.""

"What?""

"An embryo preservation program.""

I stared at her.

"My father?""

"Apparently, yes.""

She walked to the sofa and sat down.

I followed.

"Why would my father arrange that?""

"Because he knew how much you wanted a family.""

I remembered conversations with my father.

He had always wanted grandchildren. He used to joke that I would have to produce enough children to fill the enormous Moretti dining table.

But embryos?

That was something else entirely.

Isabella continued.

"Your father had been concerned about the family business. He believed you might never be able to have a normal life if you remained under Vittorio's control. He wanted to give you another chance at having a family someday.""

I sat opposite her.

"Did he use our genetic material?""

"That's what I was told.""

"Did you agree?""

"Not initially. I didn't even know the program existed.""

She rubbed her forehead.

"Richard said your father had arranged it legally. He showed me documents with your signature and mine. He told me the embryos had been created from samples we had provided during a fertility consultation.""

I remembered that consultation.

Two years before Isabella disappeared, we had visited a private clinic because she had experienced complications that made us worry about future fertility.

We had both signed paperwork.

I remembered providing samples.

But I had never agreed to an embryo preservation program.

"Did we actually create embryos?""

Isabella nodded.

"Apparently, four.""

I stared at her.

"Four?""

"Four viable embryos. All genetically ours.""

"Then how did you become pregnant?""

Her expression changed.

"That's what I don't understand.""

I leaned forward.

"Are you saying the boys were born through IVF?""

She looked down.

"That's what the medical records suggest.""

I sat back.

My mind was racing.

If the boys had been conceived through embryos, then someone had arranged the procedure.

Someone had controlled the records.

Someone had known exactly what was happening.

And my grandfather had apparently known about it before the woman carrying my children.

"Why didn't you tell me about the clinic?""

"Because I didn't know until after the boys were born.""

I stared at her.

"Explain that.""

She took a shaky breath.

"During my pregnancy, I went to a private obstetrician recommended by your father's old doctor. I thought it was just a regular pregnancy. I never questioned the paperwork because I trusted the clinic.""

"Who paid for it?""

"Your grandfather's trust.""

I closed my eyes.

Everything was connected.

The payments.

The clinic.

The fake custody agreement.

The missing medical records.

My grandfather hadn't simply discovered four children after they were born.

He might have helped create the circumstances that brought them into the world.

"Did you ever see the original embryo consent forms?""

"No.""

"Did you ask?""

"Yes. Richard told me the clinic had closed.""

I looked at her.

"That clinic is still operating.""

Her head snapped up.

"What?""

"Michael found it. The original laboratory is now part of a medical research group.""

Isabella looked frightened.

"Dominic, what if they used those embryos for something else?""

I didn't answer.

Because I was thinking the same thing.

At 11:20 that morning, Michael Grant joined us through a secure video call.

He had already contacted the laboratory.

The report was more complicated than we had first understood.

"Dominic," he said, "I want to be clear. The paternity result confirms that you are the biological father of all four boys. Isabella is their biological mother. That part is not in dispute.""

"Then what does the additional finding mean?""

Michael opened a document.

"The laboratory detected genetic markers consistent with assisted reproduction. However, that doesn't establish whether the embryos were transferred with Isabella's informed consent.""

Isabella covered her mouth.

Michael continued.

"We also found a second set of records attached to the original clinic file.""

"What records?"" I asked.

"An authorization for a genetic screening study.""

"Who signed it?""

"Your grandfather.""

I felt my jaw tighten.

"Was he a doctor?""

"No.""

"Then why was he authorizing anything?""

"That's precisely what we need to investigate.""

Isabella leaned toward the screen.

"Mr. Grant, were the embryos used in any other procedures?""

Michael hesitated.

"The clinic's records mention a research protocol. Four embryos were listed under a private donor code.""

"Donor code?"" I repeated.

"Yes. The code was connected to Moretti Family Holdings.""

I stared at the screen.

"Can you tell us what the research involved?""

"Not yet. The laboratory is reviewing archived records.""

"How long?""

"At least a day.""

I stood.

"Then we don't have a day.""

Michael looked at me.

"Dominic, don't confront your grandfather without understanding what you're dealing with.""

I laughed bitterly.

"Everyone keeps telling me that.""

"Because we know how he operates.""

Isabella reached for my hand.

It was the first time she had touched me willingly since I had found her.

"Please," she whispered.

I looked at her.

"Don't let anger make decisions for you.""

I slowly sat down.

"All right.""

Michael continued.

"There is one more issue. The laboratory received the sample under your name, but the authorization was submitted by Richard Barrett. He also requested access to the boys' complete genetic profiles.""

"Why?""

"I don't know.""

Isabella went pale.

"What could he want with their genetic profiles?""

Michael didn't answer immediately.

Then he said something that changed the atmosphere in the room.

"Possibly because the boys aren't just genetically connected to Dominic. They may also carry a hereditary marker that your father's research was investigating.""

I looked at him.

"What marker?""

"An inherited neurological condition had been mentioned in the clinic's preliminary paperwork. I cannot tell you whether any of the children have it. The records are incomplete, and the laboratory needs proper medical review.""

Isabella stood.

"Are you saying my children are sick?""

"No," Michael answered quickly.

"I'm saying we need accurate medical information before anyone makes assumptions.""

I moved toward her.

"Isabella, look at me.""

She shook her head.

"Not my boys.""

"They're not going to face this alone.""

She looked at me.

"You can't promise that.""

"I can promise I'll be there.""

For a moment, she simply stared at me.

Then she whispered:

"That's all I ever wanted.""

That afternoon, I went to the old Moretti medical foundation building.

It had been closed for renovations for nearly three years.

My grandfather had established the foundation in my father's name after his supposed death.

I had never questioned the arrangement.

Now I was beginning to wonder whether it had ever been a charity at all.

The building's former medical director, Dr. Samuel Pierce, agreed to meet me.

He was a thin man in his late sixties with silver-rimmed glasses and a habit of looking at the door whenever someone raised their voice.

He greeted me without offering his hand.

"Dominic.""

"Doctor.""

"I understand you have questions.""

"About the embryos.""

His face tightened.

"I wondered when you would find out.""

I stared at him.

"You knew?""

"I worked with your father.""

"Then tell me what happened.""

He closed the office door.

"Anthony believed your grandfather was using the family's medical foundation to conduct unauthorized genetic research.""

"On whom?""

"Initially, donated biological samples. Later, embryos.""

I felt sick.

"Was Isabella involved?""

"She was listed as a participant.""

"Did she consent?""

Pierce looked away.

"Not to everything.""

I stepped closer.

"What does that mean?""

"Your father discovered that the clinic had been transferring embryos without complete informed consent documentation. He wanted to shut the program down.""

"And the boys?""

The doctor looked at me.

"Your sons were born from the embryos created during your fertility consultation.""

I gripped the edge of his desk.

"Who arranged the transfer?""

"Your grandfather.""

"Did Isabella know?""

"No. She was told she was undergoing a standard fertility treatment after being given misleading information about the procedure.""

My blood turned cold.

"You're telling me someone used our embryos without our informed consent?""

Dr. Pierce nodded.

"That is what the archived records indicate.""

I couldn't speak.

He continued.

"Your father was furious. He believed the program had crossed an unforgivable line.""

"Why didn't he report it?""

"He tried.""

"What happened?""

The doctor looked at me for a long time.

Then he opened a locked cabinet and removed a small envelope.

"Your father left this with me shortly before his disappearance.""

I took it.

On the front were two words.

*For Dominic.*

My fingers trembled as I opened it.

Inside was a handwritten note.

My son, if you are reading this, then Vittorio has finally lost control of the story.

I swallowed.

I wanted you to have a family. I never intended for your private decisions to become someone else's experiment.

I looked up.

Dr. Pierce was watching me.

"What experiment?""

He took a slow breath.

"Your grandfather believed certain inherited traits could be identified and selected before birth. He wanted to create a family line that would preserve specific genetic characteristics.""

I stared at him.

"Are you saying he used my children as an experiment?""

"I believe he intended to.""

The room seemed to disappear.

Then Dr. Pierce spoke again.

"There's something else. Your father didn't disappear alone.""

I looked up sharply.

"What?""

"He left Boston with a woman.""

"Who?""

The doctor hesitated.

Then he answered.