Chapter 4
Julian laughed.
Once.
Sharp.
Disbelieving.
Then he looked at Victor.
“Tell her she’s lying.”
Victor did not.
That did more damage than any answer.
Sofia looked at her husband.
Whatever anger she felt toward him momentarily collided with shock.
I stayed quiet.
This truth belonged to the Mercers before it belonged to me.
Julian stepped closer.
“Dad.”
Victor finally spoke.
“I raised you.”
“That is not what I asked.”
Silence.
Good.
Julian had spent months telling Sofia blood entitled his family to her child.
Now blood had arrived at his own throat.
Victor sat.
Thirty-six years earlier, his older sister Marianne had given birth to twin boys.
Victor’s wife had lost a pregnancy that same year.
The Mercer patriarch made a decision.
One twin would remain with Marianne.
One would be raised by Victor and his wife.
Julian.
My son-in-law stared as if the room had disappeared.
“You took me.”
Victor’s face hardened.
“We raised you.”
“You took me.”
“Your aunt had two.”
The exact logic.
Sofia inhaled sharply.
Everyone heard it.
Victor realized.
Too late.
“You had two.”
Julian looked toward the three bassinets.
Then back at the man he had called father his entire life.
Victor continued.
“It was different.”
Sofia laughed weakly from the bed.
“How?”
He looked at her.
“Marianne agreed.”
That answer lasted two seconds.
Then Nurse Claire spoke.
“Did she?”
Victor turned.
Claire stood quietly beside the bassinets.
Not intimidated.
Good.
Victor did not answer.
I knew.
I looked at Bianca.
“You knew?”
Her eyes filled.
“Since I was seventeen.”
Julian stared.
“You knew for nineteen years?”
“I was told never to say anything.”
“And you accepted that?”
Bianca’s voice cracked.
“What was I supposed to do?”
Julian laughed bitterly.
“Apparently take one of my children.”
There.
His children now.
Interesting how quickly ownership language changes when the system turns back on the person defending it.
I looked at Victor.
“Where is Marianne?”
He said nothing.
Julian’s face tightened.
“Alive?”
Still nothing.
Bianca whispered:
“Yes.”
Julian stumbled backward.
Not physically hurt.
Something deeper.
May you like
His biological mother was alive.
And his father had hidden her while teaching him that separating Sofia from one newborn was family tradition.
