Chapter 5 - NATALIE NAMED THE MAN WHO FATHERED HER TWINS
Natalie stayed in Australia for six weeks.
Not with me.
That would have been madness.
Margaret helped her find temporary accommodation and independent legal counsel.
The twins were named Owen and Miles.
I learned their names only because Natalie stopped by once to return a blanket.
Sophie had somehow ended up wearing one from Natalie’s diaper bag during the first chaotic night.
Our lives had become ridiculous enough that baby blankets crossed enemy lines.
Natalie stood at my door.
“Can I come in?”
I hesitated.
Then nodded.
She entered.
The apartment was quieter than her first visit.
Only two babies awake.
Nina had the others at a medical appointment.
Natalie looked around.
“You seem okay.”
I laughed.
“That is a remarkable misunderstanding.”
She smiled faintly.
Then became serious.
“I’m leaving tomorrow.”
“For Connecticut?”
“No.”
“Where?”
“Chicago.”
I frowned.
“My sister lives there.”
I had not known she had a sister.
Of course I hadn’t.
I had known Natalie as Carter’s secretary and mistress, not a complete person.
“What about the boys?”
“With me.”
“Carter?”
Her face tightened.
“He petitioned for temporary visitation.”
I stared.
“Why?”
“He bonded with them.”
That answer complicated everything.
Carter had believed Owen and Miles were his sons.
He attended prenatal appointments.
Prepared a nursery.
Held them after birth.
Accepted paternity.
Biology later disproved it.
But emotional attachment did not disappear because a laboratory changed a label.
“What did you do?”
“I opposed it.”
“Why?”
Natalie looked ashamed.
“Because I wanted to hurt him.”
I appreciated the honesty.
“And now?”
“I don’t know.”
She sat.
“His lawyer says he may have standing depending on established parentage and what he signed after the birth.”
“That’s between attorneys.”
“I know.”
She looked at me.
“I’m asking something else.”
I waited.
“Was Carter good with the girls?”
My chest tightened.
“There were no girls when we were married.”
“Right.”
She swallowed.
“Was he the kind of man who could be a good father?”
That question hurt strangely.
Carter had wanted children.
Desperately.
But wanting fatherhood and being capable of it were not identical.
“I don’t know.”
Natalie nodded.
“Fair.”
Then she said:
“The boys’ biological father knows now.”
I did not ask who.
Natalie told me anyway.
“Graham Pike.”
The name meant something.
Vance Meridian’s chief financial officer.
Married.
Fifty-one.
Three children.
My stomach turned.
“Carter’s CFO?”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Twice.”
I stared.
“Twice?”
She nodded.
“The affair with Carter was real.”
I almost laughed.
Good to know.
“But during a period when Carter was traveling, Graham and I…”
She stopped.
“You don’t owe me details.”
“I know.”
Tears filled her eyes.
“I thought the twins were Carter’s.”
“Until Miriam tested them.”
“Yes.”
“Why did she suspect?”
“Blood type.”
Of course.
Miriam noticed.
Investigated.
Then concealed.
“What does Graham want?”
“Nothing.”
My jaw tightened.
“He says disclosure would destroy his family.”
“His family already exists.”
Natalie looked down.
“I know.”
“Does his wife know?”
“No.”
“That is not my problem.”
“No.”
She wiped her face.
“I keep creating problems and then expecting other women to help me decide which truth is least destructive.”
The self-awareness almost hurt.
I said:
“You need to stop asking whether truth destroys things that were built on lies.”
Natalie stared.
Then nodded slowly.
“I should tell his wife.”
“I did not say that.”
“No.”
She gave a sad smile.
“But I heard it anyway.”
I looked toward Owen.
He was awake in his carrier.
Tiny hand moving.
“No matter what you do, protect them from being used.”
Natalie looked at me.
“The boys?”
“Yes.”
“Miriam already did.”
“I know.”
“Carter too?”
I thought.
“Maybe.”
Natalie swallowed.
“Do you think he only wanted them because he thought they were heirs?”
“I don’t know.”
That was honest.
Then:
“But he stayed after they were born.”
“Yes.”
“And after the first paternity result?”
“He demanded another test.”
I almost smiled.
“He still held them.”
That mattered.
Not enough to make Carter suddenly noble.
But enough to complicate villainy.
Natalie stood.
“I never expected you to be kind to me.”
“I’m not being kind.”
She frowned.
“I’m being accurate.”
Her expression softened.
“That may be kinder.”
After she left, Daniel arrived for coffee.
Not at my apartment.
We met at a café near the hospital.
Nina stayed with the girls.
I nearly canceled three times.
Then decided I was tired of letting fear make every decision.
Daniel was already seated.
Two coffees.
One decaf.
I stared.
“You remembered?”
“You’re breastfeeding four babies.”
“I am mostly pumping.”
“Still.”
He pushed the decaf toward me.
“No heroics.”
That phrase again.
But this time it sounded practical.
We talked for ninety minutes.
Not about Carter.
Not at first.
Daniel had been married once.
Divorced five years.
No children.
His ex-wife lived in Vancouver.
Amicable.
I distrusted the word.
He noticed.
“You don’t believe amicable divorce exists?”
“I believe unicorns probably exist too. I have not personally verified either.”
He laughed.
“My divorce was boring.”
“That sounds fictional.”
“We wanted different lives.”
“No betrayal?”
“No.”
“No mother-in-law offering eighty million dollars?”
“Sadly.”
I smiled.
Then Daniel asked:
“What do you want your life to look like when the legal chaos ends?”
I stared.
Nobody had asked.
Everyone asked what I would do with the money.
The trust.
The clinic lawsuit.
Carter.
Miriam.
No one asked life.
“I want to design again.”
His expression brightened.
“You were an industrial designer.”
“You researched me.”
“I read your hospital intake.”
“That is medically creepy.”
He laughed.
“I remember things.”
I continued.
“I used to design medical products.”
“What kind?”
“Assistive devices. Medication-delivery systems. Patient monitoring housings.”
Daniel leaned forward.
“You should meet someone.”
I immediately stiffened.
He raised both hands.
“Professional.”
“Good.”
“A pediatric equipment company here is redesigning neonatal home-monitoring systems.”
My chest tightened.
Four premature daughters.
Monitors had become part of my life.
“You think I should apply?”
“I think you should decide.”
Good answer.
“Send me the name.”
He did.
Two weeks later, I interviewed.
Not because I needed money.
The Mercer trust belonged to my daughters.
My clinic settlement was still unresolved.
I needed my own work.
My own mind.
The company hired me as a senior consultant.
The first morning I entered the design lab, I nearly cried.
Whiteboards.
Prototypes.
Engineers arguing.
Materials samples.
The smell of 3D-printed polymer.
Sarah Mitchell returned.
Not Mrs. Carter Vance.
Not the abandoned infertile wife.
Not the mother of miraculous quadruplets.
Me.
That evening, Carter emailed.
SUBJECT: OWEN AND MILES.
I hesitated.
Then opened it.
Natalie has agreed to supervised contact while the legal parentage issues are resolved. I thought you might hear about it publicly.
Then:
I understand they are not biologically mine. I also understand that I loved them before I knew that.
I stared.
Finally:
I am trying to learn why that truth feels different from the way I treated you.
My throat tightened.
That was the first question Carter had asked himself that mattered.
May you like
I did not answer.
He needed to find it without me.
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