Chapter 3
The DNA results came back in three days.
Adrian paid for the fastest lab in the state. Both children. Both his. 99.99 percent.
He cried when he read the report. Then he called his lawyer.
But before any of that — before lawyers, before lawsuits, before justice — there was this: Adrian meeting his daughters.
He came to the small apartment I'd rented. It was tiny. Two bedrooms. Second-hand furniture. He looked around, and I saw the guilt in his eyes.
"You lived like this," he said. "For two years."
"I had help. A shelter. A church group. I got a job at a diner. We survived."
"You shouldn't have had to survive."
He didn't lecture. He didn't throw money. He just — sat down on the floor with Lily and started building a block tower. Mia climbed into his lap like she'd always belonged there.
By the end of the afternoon, Lily was calling him Daddy without hesitation.
That evening, after the girls were asleep, we sat on my tiny balcony. He told me everything. How Victoria had been his mother's choice for him from the start. How, after my "death," Victoria had been the one to hold him, to listen, to slowly become indispensable. How his mother had pushed the marriage. How the wedding date was set.
"I never loved her," he said. "Not the way I loved you. I thought — I thought you were gone. I thought I had to move on. I was half-dead, Clara. I married her because she was there. Because my mother said it was time."
I listened. I didn't forgive. Not yet. But I understood.
Then Victoria showed up.
She banged on my door at nine o'clock that night. She was alone. Her eyes were red. Her expensive clothes were wrinkled.
"Clara," she said, her voice venomous. "You think you've won. You think you can just walk in here and take everything. But you don't know what you're dealing with."
I stood in the doorway. I didn't let her in. "Victoria, you should leave."
"Adrian is mine. Do you hear me? Mine. I spent two years building this. You think a couple of kids are going to change that? I'll take them. I'll get full custody. You're an unfit mother — a waitress, living in a dump. Who do you think a judge will believe?"
She leaned in, her voice dropping to a hiss. "I have money. I have connections. You have nothing. Walk away now, and I'll make sure you get a nice little settlement. Keep fighting, and you'll lose everything. Including those brats."
I didn't flinch. I reached into my pocket and pressed the button on my phone.
"Thank you, Victoria," I said. "That was all recorded."
Her face went white.
I closed the door. I locked it. I leaned against it, my heart hammering.
Adrian came out of the bedroom. He'd heard everything.
"She threatened you," he said. His voice was ice.
"She threatened to take the children."
He pulled out his phone. He called his lawyer. I heard him say the words: "I want her charged. Harassment. Threats. And I want a restraining order. Tonight."
I looked through the peephole. Victoria was gone.
I went to the girls' room. They were sleeping, peaceful and unaware. I stood over their cribs and listened to them breathe.
Adrian came up behind me. He put his arms around my waist. He rested his chin on my shoulder.
May you like
"I won't let anyone take them," he said. "I won't let anyone hurt you. Ever again."
I closed my eyes. For the first time in two years, I let myself believe him.
