Chapter 5 - Flesh of My Flesh
The silence that fell over Walker Hall was now heavy, sacred, and terrifying. Ethan stared at the two toddlers walking beside the nanny. He didn't need a medical chart, a DNA certificate, or a legal affidavit. The boy had his exact nose, his intense blue eyes, and the very posture Ethan held when he was unsure of his surroundings. The girl possessed the Walker dimple and his mother’s delicate facial structure, softened by Claire’s warmth.
"Mommy!" Emma called out, her little shoes pattering across the stone terrace.
Claire knelt down with open arms, catching Emma against her shoulder while Noah trotted up and leaned against her knee, eyeing the towering stranger in the tuxedo with wide, curious eyes.
Ethan dropped to his knees right there on the flagstones. His breath came in ragged, wheezing gasps as his hands hovered in the air, terrified that if he touched them, they would vanish like an illusion.
"Claire..." Ethan sobbed, the tears streaming freely down his face, soaking into his silk bowtie. "Are they... are they mine?"
"This is Noah, and this is Emma," Claire said softly, smoothing back Noah's hair. "They are three years old, Ethan. Three years ago, on the morning your mother cloned your phone and sent those texts, I was sitting in an ultrasound clinic holding a printout of two tiny heartbeats. I tried to call you to tell you that you were going to be a father."
Ethan buried his face in his trembling hands, let out a guttural scream of absolute grief, and bowed his head against the earth. He had lost three years. Three years of first steps, first words, midnight feedings, and bedtime lullabies—all stolen by the twisted vanity of the woman who gave birth to him.
Margaret looked up from the grass, her eyes wide with terror as she looked at the children. "No... no, it's impossible. You got rid of them. I gave you a check! You were supposed to disappear!"
"I tore your check in half and threw it at your feet, Margaret," Claire said, standing tall while holding Emma close. "You told me to consider what kind of life I could give them. You thought that because I was poor, I was powerless. You thought money gave you the divine right to dictate who is allowed to be a family."
Noah took a brave step forward, tilting his head at Ethan. "Why is the tall man crying, Mommy?"
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Ethan lifted his head, his vision blurred by tears. He looked at his son, his heart tearing wide open. "I'm crying because... because I'm happy to finally meet you, buddy."
Noah smiled, reaching out a small, chubby finger to wipe a tear from Ethan’s cheek. The touch was like an electric current running through Ethan's soul, waking him from a three-year coma of despair.
