Chapter 5 - THE DNA TESTBy eight that morning, there were two security professionals sitting in my kitchen, one parked outside the triplets’ school, and another inspecting every camera around my townhouse.
I hated it.
I also allowed it.
Because pride becomes irrelevant the moment someone photographs your children without permission.
Julian stood by my kitchen counter while I made pancakes.
It was absurd.
Six years earlier, this had been our Sunday ritual.
Now my ex-husband was in my kitchen while news vans gathered two streets away.
The triplets had no idea why.
I intended to keep it that way as long as possible.
Declan came downstairs first.
He stopped when he saw Julian.
“Oh.”
Julian looked more nervous than I had ever seen him.
“Morning.”
Declan studied him.
“Are you the restaurant man?”
“Yes.”
“The sad one?”
Julian glanced at me.
“Yes.”
Declan climbed onto a stool.
“Mom says staring is rude.”
“I’ve heard.”
Owen appeared next.
Then Harper.
Within thirty seconds, all three were watching Julian.
Finally Harper asked the question.
“Are you our dad?”
I dropped the pancake spatula.
Of course she asked.
Children do not respect carefully prepared adult timelines.
Julian looked at me.
He waited.
That mattered.
Six years ago he would have answered immediately.
Now he waited for permission.
I sat beside the children.
“We think he is.”
Declan frowned.
“You think?”
“There’s a test grown-ups can do.”
Owen brightened.
“DNA.”
I stared.
“How do you know that?”
“Dinosaurs.”
“That explains nothing.”
“It does to me.”
Julian laughed.
The children looked at him.
Then Declan laughed too.
Same laugh.
Same abrupt little breath at the end.
My chest hurt.
Harper asked, “If he’s our dad, where was he?”
That was the question.
Not billionaire empires.
Not forged paperwork.
Not Evelyn.
Not Audra.
Just:
Where were you?
Julian crouched until he was at their height.
“I didn’t know about you.”
Harper looked at me.
I nodded.
“That’s true.”
“Why?”
Julian swallowed.
“Because some adults made very bad choices.”
“Did you?”
He hesitated.
“Yes.”
I looked at him.
He continued.
“I didn’t know you existed. But I made other mistakes that helped everything get very confused.”
Declan seemed satisfied by this.
Five-year-olds understand mistakes better than excuses.
“Did Mommy make mistakes?”
Julian looked toward me.
“Yes.”
I almost protested.
Then he added, “But nothing that made this her fault.”
That silenced me.
Owen asked, “Are you rich?”
I closed my eyes.
Julian fought a smile.
“Why?”
“Ethan at school says you’re a billionaire.”
Of course the children knew.
Parents talked.
Children listened.
“Technically,” Julian said, “yes.”
Declan’s eyes widened.
“Do you have a dinosaur?”
“No.”
“Then what’s the point?”
I laughed so hard I had to sit down.
Even Julian smiled.
For ten blessed minutes, everything felt almost normal.
Then the DNA specialist arrived.
We explained it as a cheek-swab science test.
The triplets thought it was hilarious.
Julian went last.
Forty-eight hours later, the results arrived.
Probability of paternity:
99.9999 percent.
I didn’t need the paper.
Neither did Julian.
Still, seeing it changed something.
He stared at the results for a long time.
Then whispered, “I have children.”
“Yes.”
“Three.”
“That is generally how triplets work.”
He laughed.
Then unexpectedly began crying.
Not dramatically.
His shoulders didn’t shake.
He simply stood beside my dining table while tears ran down his face.
I looked away.
Some grief deserves privacy.
But Harper didn’t understand that rule.
She walked over and wrapped both arms around his leg.
Julian froze.
Then knelt.
She hugged his neck.
His face collapsed against her shoulder.
Owen joined.
Then Declan.
And suddenly all four of them were tangled together.
I turned toward the window because I couldn’t watch without crying.
My phone rang.
Nathan.
I answered.
“What did you find?”
“Enough to get interesting.”
I moved into the hallway.
“Tell me.”
“The clinic document was fake. Completely.”
“I assumed.”
“The doctor whose signature appears on it never worked at the clinic. In fact, that doctor died nine months before the date on the document.”
My skin crawled.
“That’s not careless.”
“No. It suggests whoever created it expected Julian never to verify.”
“Because he trusted whoever handed it to him.”
“Exactly.”
“Audra.”
“Yes.”
“What about the clinic?”
“They’re cooperating. No record of you exists in their system.”
“And the forged settlement?”
“Created by an outside design contractor regularly used by Sterling communications.”
“Who ordered it?”
“We’re obtaining that.”
“What about Evelyn?”
Nathan paused.
“We found payments.”
“To whom?”
“A private investigations firm.”
“When?”
“Beginning two weeks before your separation and continuing for eleven months.”
My knees weakened.
“She had me followed.”
“Yes.”
“The photograph at my doctor?”
“Likely.”
“Can we prove it?”
“We’re working on it.”
I looked back into the living room.
Julian sat cross-legged on the carpet while Declan showed him a plastic shark.
Billionaire CEO.
Plastic shark.
I almost smiled.
Then Nathan said, “Emma, there’s something else.”
“What?”
“We found a payment from Evelyn’s private account to Martin Wells.”
I remembered the security chief who had turned me away.
“How much?”
“Two hundred thousand dollars.”
“For what?”
“No description.”
“When?”
“Three days after your divorce became final.”
I closed my eyes.
“Of course.”
“But here’s the part Julian doesn’t know yet.”
I lowered my voice.
“What?”
“Martin Wells died last year.”
“That’s terrible, but—”
“His widow contacted us this morning.”
“Why?”
“Because she recognized your photograph on television.”
I waited.
Nathan continued.
“She says Martin kept a sealed package in their home safe for six years.”
My pulse jumped.
“What package?”
“She doesn’t know. He told her that if Julian Sterling ever discovered the truth about his first marriage, she was to give it directly to Julian.”
I looked toward him.
He was now letting Harper attach pink hair clips to his head.
“What’s inside?”
“His widow is bringing it this afternoon.”
At three, we gathered in Nathan’s office.
Martin Wells’s widow was named Sandra.
She looked exhausted.
“I told my husband to go to the police,” she said.
“Why didn’t he?” Julian asked.
“He was afraid.”
“Of my mother?”
Sandra looked at him sadly.
“Of your family.”
She placed a padded envelope on the table.
“My husband worked private security for twenty-three years. He wasn’t easily frightened.”
Julian took the envelope.
Inside was a flash drive.
And a handwritten letter.
Julian unfolded it.
He read silently at first.
Then his face changed.
I reached for his arm.
“What?”
He handed me the letter.
Martin had written it three months before his death.
Mr. Sterling,
I owe you and Mrs. Sterling an apology. Six years ago, your mother instructed me to deny Mrs. Sterling access to your residence and report any attempt she made to contact you. I complied. I was paid privately. That was wrong.
My hands shook.
I continued.
Later, Ms. Bellamy asked me to remove security footage showing Mrs. Sterling arriving at Sterling Tower on May 14. I kept a copy because the request seemed improper.
May 14.
The day I came to tell Julian I was pregnant.
I looked up.
Julian had gone pale.
Nathan inserted the flash drive.
A video appeared.
There I was.
Six years younger.
Walking through Sterling Tower with an envelope clutched against my chest.
The ultrasound.
The footage jumped.
Audra entered the elevator.
Then Evelyn.
My breath stopped.
I had never seen Evelyn that day.
On video, the two women walked into a private conference room.
Twenty-six minutes later, Audra emerged carrying my envelope.
Opened.
Evelyn followed.
Five minutes afterward, I was escorted from the building.
Julian stared at the screen.
“They were together.”
“Yes,” Nathan said.
The next clip showed something worse.
A camera outside Julian’s office.
Audra walked to his door holding the envelope.
She paused.
Then turned away.
She never entered.
She never told him.
The final file contained audio.
Martin had apparently recorded a conversation because he feared becoming the fall guy.
Evelyn’s voice was unmistakable.
“If Julian finds out about those babies, the divorce stops.”
Audra answered.
“And if Emma keeps them?”
“She will. That’s why we make her believe Julian wants nothing to do with them.”
My blood went cold.
Then Audra said:
“And Julian?”
Evelyn’s reply made everyone in the room freeze.
“Tell him she ended the pregnancy.”
Julian shut his eyes.
But the recording continued.
Audra asked, “What happens when they eventually meet?”
Evelyn laughed softly.
“They won’t.”
I thought that was the worst of it.
Then came one final sentence.
Evelyn said:
“By then, Julian will be married to you.”
Nobody moved.
I slowly turned toward Julian.
He looked like a man whose entire history had just been rewritten.
Audra had not merely helped destroy our marriage.
She had been promised my place in it.
May you like
And somewhere along the way...
that promise had turned into an engagement ring.
Related Stories
