PART 2 — THE TWO CHILDREN WHO CALLED ANOTHER MAN DADDY
PART 2 — THE TWO CHILDREN WHO CALLED ANOTHER MAN DADDY
Alexander stood outside the flower shop, unable to move.
Through the glᴀss, he watched Claire kneel beside a little girl wearing a pink cardigan. She carefully adjusted the child’s scarf before brushing a strand of hair away from her face.
The little girl giggled.
Beside her stood a boy holding a tiny wooden dinosaur.
Alexander stared at him.
The boy had his eyes.
His dark hair.
Even the small crease between his eyebrows when he concentrated.
It was like looking at a pH๏τograph of himself taken thirty years earlier.
“Daddy, look!”
The boy suddenly held up the dinosaur.
Alexander’s heart stopped.
Claire smiled and kissed the child’s forehead.
“That’s wonderful, sweetheart.”
Then she turned toward the counter.
Alexander stepped inside.
The bell above the door rang.
Claire looked up.
For a fraction of a second, her face showed surprise.
Then the color drained from it.
“Alexander.”
He had imagined seeing her again dozens of times.
In some versions, she screamed at him.
In others, she cried.
Sometimes she begged him to explain why he had abandoned her.
But he had never imagined this.
She looked peaceful.
Older, perhaps, but stronger. Her hair was pulled into a loose bun, and a simple green apron covered her dress. There were faint lines around her eyes, the kind created by years of smiling and sleepless nights.
She looked like a woman who had built an entirely new life without him.
And that realization hurt more than he expected.
“Claire,” he whispered.
She immediately moved in front of the children.
“What are you doing here?”
Alexander glanced at the twins.
His voice trembled.
“Who are they?”
Claire’s expression hardened.
“You already know.”
He swallowed.
“Are they mine?”
She let out a bitter laugh.
“Three years ago, you made it very clear that you didn’t want children with me.”
“I know.”
“You told me that a baby would complicate your life.”
“I was wrong.”
“You told me seven years of marriage were worth $150 million.”
Alexander lowered his eyes.
“I was wrong about that too.”
The little girl peeked around Claire’s leg.
“Mommy, who is the man?”
Claire gently touched her daughter’s shoulder.
“It’s all right, sweetheart. Go sit with your brother.”
The boy looked at Alexander suspiciously.
“Are you buying flowers?”
Alexander stared at the child.
He wanted to say, I’m your father.
He wanted to kneel down and hold him.
He wanted to ask his name, his favorite toy, what he liked to eat, and whether he had ever wondered why other children had fathers who picked them up from school.
But he knew he had no right to demand anything.
“What are their names?” he asked quietly.
Claire hesitated.
“Ethan and Emma.”
Alexander repeated the names under his breath.
Ethan.
Emma.
Two names he had never heard before.
Two lives he had missed.
“May I speak with you?”
“No.”
“Claire, please.”
“You don’t get to walk into my shop after three years and expect a conversation.”
“I only want to understand.”
She stared at him.
“Understand what? That you have children?”
His throat тιԍнтened.
“That you knew about them?”
Claire’s eyes filled with tears.
“I tried to tell you.”
Alexander went completely still.
“When?”
“That afternoon. The day you sent me the money.”
He remembered.
The transfer notification.
The divorce message.
Sophia sitting beside him in the car.
Claire standing across the street, watching them.
“You were holding something,” he whispered.
“An ultrasound.”
The word struck him like a physical blow.
Alexander grabbed the counter to steady himself.
“Were you already pregnant?”
“Eleven weeks.”
He closed his eyes.
Eleven weeks.
His children had already existed when he transferred the money.
They had already existed when he told Claire she was no longer welcome in his life.
And she had been carrying them while he sat beside Sophia, pretending he was finally free.
“Why didn’t you tell me again?”
Claire looked at him as if he had asked the cruelest question imaginable.
“I was going to.”
Her voice broke.
“I had the ultrasound in my purse. I had a little pair of baby socks in my coat pocket. I even had a card prepared because I thought you might finally be happy.”
Alexander could not breathe.
“But then you told me the truth,” she continued. “You told me you had deliberately prevented us from having children. You admitted you had allowed me to blame myself for years.”
“I didn’t know you were pregnant.”
“No. You didn’t want to know.”
He lowered his head.
She continued, each word quieter than the one before.
“You watched me cry after every failed treatment. You held my hand while I thought my body was betraying me. You told me we would keep trying.”
Alexander felt tears gathering in his eyes.
“I thought I was protecting myself.”
“From what?”
“From being trapped in a marriage.”
Claire stared at him.
“And what did you think I was? Someone you could keep as long as she was convenient?”
He had no answer.
A small voice interrupted them.
“Mommy?”
Emma was standing beside the counter.
“Can we go home now?”
Claire’s expression softened immediately.
“Of course, sweetheart.”
She picked up the twins’ coats.
Alexander watched her ʙuттon Emma’s cardigan, then help Ethan put his arms through his sleeves.
He wanted to help.
He wanted to be part of the ordinary things.
But the children barely knew he existed.
When Claire finished, she turned toward him.
“You need to leave.”
“Please. Just tell me one thing.”
“What?”
“Why didn’t you contact me after they were born?”
Her expression changed.
For the first time, he saw anger mixed with something deeper.
“Because I remembered what you said.”
“I never said I wouldn’t want them.”
“You said you didn’t want children tying you to me. You said you had arranged things so a pregnancy wouldn’t happen.”
Alexander looked down.
Claire stepped closer.
“I was terrified, Alexander. I was pregnant with twins, alone, and carrying the knowledge that the man who should have been celebrating with me had deliberately made sure I would never experience this.”
“I would have helped.”
“Would you?”
Her voice rose.
“Would you have come to appointments? Would you have stayed awake when I was sick? Would you have held two newborns while I recovered? Or would you have sent another transfer and called it responsibility?”
He flinched.
Claire opened the shop door.
“Please go.”
Alexander glanced at Ethan and Emma one last time.
“Can I see them again?”
“Not today.”
“Claire—”
“You’re a stranger to them. Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
He nodded slowly.
Then Ethan spoke from beside the window.
“Mommy, is he sad?”
Claire looked at her son.
“I think so, sweetheart.”
“Why?”
She didn’t answer.
Alexander turned toward the door.
He had faced hostile investors, angry politicians, and compeтιтors who had tried to ruin him.
Yet two simple questions from a little boy had left him completely defenseless.
Outside, he stood beside his car for several minutes.
Then his phone rang.
His ᴀssistant.
“Sir, we found something else about Mrs. Moretti’s departure.”
Alexander wiped his face.
“What?”
“Three weeks after she left, she attempted to contact your office.”
His chest тιԍнтened.
“Why?”
“She wanted to send you a copy of the children’s birth records.”
Alexander closed his eyes.
“Did I receive them?”
“No, sir.”
“Who handled the message?”
There was a pause.
“Your former personal secretary.”
Alexander frowned.
“Name?”
The ᴀssistant answered.
“Sophia Reynolds.”
Alexander went completely still.
Sophia had been working for him at that time.
She had managed his personal correspondence.
And she had been the person who told him Claire wanted no further contact.
He looked back through the flower shop window.
Claire was helping the twins into their little shoes.
For three years, he had believed his ex-wife had chosen to disappear.
Now he was beginning to understand that someone might have helped keep her away.
And that someone had been standing beside him all along.
But what Alexander discovered next would make him question whether Sophia had merely hidden his children—or deliberately stolen three years of their lives.
