Noah watched my face carefully. “He made you sad.”
“Only for a minute.”
Lucas leaned against my arm. “Can we get pancakes?”
I kissed the top of his head. “Yes. Pancakes solve many emergencies.”
As the Bentley pulled away, I looked back once.
Blake was still standing by the curb.
Alone among all his waiting cars.
Smaller somehow than he had ever seemed.
And for the first time in five years, I knew the past was not finished with me.
By the time we reached the house in Lincoln Park, my nerves were frayed thin.
Julian was waiting in the doorway.
Tall, calm, dressed in a soft gray sweater with his sleeves pushed up. He had Eli’s favorite dinosaur tucked under one arm and a coffee in his hand for me.
His eyes moved over my face once.
That was all it took.
“What happened?”
The boys ran to him.
“Uncle Jules!” Lucas shouted.
Julian crouched, letting all three collide with him. Though he was my husband by law, the boys had never called him Dad. That had been his choice.
“They deserve the truth someday,” he had told me before we married. “I won’t take a name that belongs to someone else unless they offer it.”
That was Julian.
Gentle in ways that made other men look careless.
After the boys disappeared toward the kitchen with the promise of pancakes, Julian handed me the coffee.
“You saw him.”
I nodded.
Julian closed the front door.
“Does he know?”
“Yes.”
He drew a slow breath, then looked toward the hallway where the boys were laughing.
“How bad was it?”
“He asked if they were his.”
Julian’s expression hardened for the first time.
Then I told him everything.
The plane.
The accusations.
The curb.
Blake saying he never authorized Martin to threaten me.
At that, Julian went very still.
“What did you say?”
“Blake claims Martin told him communication should go through legal channels, but that he never asked him to block me completely.”
Julian set his coffee down untouched.
The silence between us changed.
I noticed it immediately.
“Julian.”
He didn’t answer.
“What do you know?”
His jaw tightened.
“Martin lied to me too.”
My pulse quickened. “About what?”
Julian looked toward the kitchen again, lowering his voice.
“When you first came to Chicago, after the boys were born, I asked Martin about the divorce. I wanted to know why Blake never appeared. He told me Blake knew about the pregnancy.”
My hands went cold.
“He said Blake knew?”
Julian nodded slowly.
“He said Blake believed the children might not be his and refused involvement unless there was a court-ordered paternity test. He said you rejected that.”
I stared at him.
“That never happened.”
“I know that now.”
A strange rushing sound filled my ears.
For five years, there had been a wall between Blake and me.
I had thought Blake built it.
Blake had thought I did.
But what if someone else had been laying bricks in the dark?
“Why would Martin do that?” I whispered.
Julian’s expression turned grim.
“Because he had reason to keep you apart.”
Before I could ask what he meant, the doorbell rang.
Both of us turned.
No one visited without warning. Not at that house. Not with three children and a security system Julian insisted on after the boys were born.
Julian crossed to the monitor beside the door.
The camera showed a man in a dark suit standing on the porch.
Blake.
My breath caught.
Julian’s eyes narrowed. “You told him not to come?”
“Yes.”
Blake looked directly into the camera as if he knew we were watching.
Then he held up a small white envelope.
Julian opened the door before I could stop him.
Blake’s gaze moved from Julian to me.
For a moment, the two men simply looked at each other.
Old money and new grief.
Quiet strength and shattered arrogance.
Then Blake said, “I know I shouldn’t be here.”
“You’re right,” Julian replied.
Blake accepted that without protest. His eyes found mine.
“I wasn’t going to come. Then my assistant found something.”
He held out the envelope.
I didn’t take it.
Julian did.
Inside were photocopies of three letters.
My letters.
The ones returned unopened.
But these were not unopened.
They had been scanned.
Stamped.
Logged.
