Chapter 2 - TWO BABIES NAMED AFTER NOBODY
Emily refused his first request to meet.
She refused the second.
Her attorney replied with seven words:
My client is not emotionally ready yet.
Michael deserved that.
He canceled the wedding the following morning.
Ashley arrived at his office before ten.
“What do you mean canceled?”
“Postponed indefinitely.”
Her face barely changed.
“Because you saw Emily?”
Michael looked up.
Ashley realized her mistake.
He had not told her that.
“I saw her yesterday,” he said carefully.
Ashley recovered.
“Half of Riverside probably saw her. She’s collecting trash beside the road.”
“How did you know where?”
“I didn’t.”
“You just said Riverside.”
“You said—”
“No.”
Silence.
Michael felt something settle inside him.
Not rage.
Procedure.
He had built Whitmore Capital by learning that panic made executives stupid. Evidence had made him stupid once already.
He would not repeat it.
“I’m canceling because I’m not getting married while I have unresolved questions from my divorce.”
Ashley folded her arms.
“You’re letting that woman manipulate you again.”
“What manipulation?”
“She cheated.”
“We’ll see.”
“She stole from you.”
“We’ll see.”
“Your mother’s necklace was in her drawer.”
“We’ll see.”
That phrase frightened Ashley more than accusation would have.
Her expression hardened.
“You’re going to destroy what we have because some desperate woman found two blond babies?”
Michael looked directly at her.
“Did you know she was pregnant?”
“No.”
Too fast.
“Did you ever speak to St. Catherine County Hospital about Emily?”
“No.”
“Did you ever pay a patient-concierge service regarding her account?”
“No.”
“Good.”
He stood.
“Then the investigation should be easy.”
Ashley stared at him.
“What investigation?”
“The one I should have conducted eleven months ago.”
She left without kissing him.
By noon, Michael had retained family attorney Dana Pierce independently from his corporate lawyers.
Dana contacted Emily’s counsel.
Two days later, Emily agreed to a voluntary DNA collection under conditions.
No photographers.
No Whitmore employees.
No private security in the room.
No contact with the babies without her consent.
Michael agreed to everything.
The laboratory appointment took place in a neutral pediatric clinic.
Emily arrived carrying both infants.
Michael had seen her poor on the roadside.
He had not been prepared to see her frightened indoors.
She stood near the exit.
Not near him.
The twins were nearly nine weeks old, not newborn in the literal sense Michael had first assumed.
They had been born prematurely.
A boy and a girl.
The girl was Grace.
The boy was Ethan.
Michael expected some family meaning behind the names.
There was none.
Emily had deliberately chosen names that belonged to neither Whitmore nor her own parents.
“I wanted them to start without debts to dead people,” she said.
It was the first full sentence she had spoken to him.
Michael swallowed.
“Emily—”
“No.”
Her voice stayed quiet.
“Not today.”
He nodded.
The nurse collected cheek swabs.
Ethan sneezed afterward.
Grace began crying because Ethan cried.
Michael’s entire body reacted before his mind did.
He took half a step toward them.
Emily stepped back.
He stopped immediately.
That moment told him everything about how much ground he had lost.
Three days later, Dana called.
Both probabilities of paternity exceeded 99.99 percent.
Michael sat alone in his father’s old study with the report in his hands.
He had children.
Two.
For nine weeks.
For almost an entire pregnancy before that.
He had missed everything.
Then Dana said:
“Before you do anything emotional, there’s another issue.”
“What?”
“Emily’s lawyer sent records showing she tried to notify you of the pregnancy during the divorce.”
“How many times?”
“Directly? At least four documented attempts through counsel and certified correspondence.”
Michael went cold.
“I never received anything.”
“I know.”
“Who did?”
“One certified letter was signed for at your residence.”
“By whom?”
Paper rustled.
May you like
Dana answered:
“Ashley Bennett.”
