Chapter 4
“Who… who are they?” Vivian stammered, staring at the two filthy, unkempt boys who had just
entered.
One sat in a wheelchair, legs shriveled.
The other stood awkwardly, drooling, eyes unfocused, muttering nonsense.
Panic flashed in her eyes.
I chuckled.
“Who are they? Why, they are your real sons–yours and Ryan’s.”
Ryan’s face turned crimson.
“You sick freak! You brought in beggars to humiliate me?!”
I ignored him and waved the boys over.
“Look closely. Don’t they look just like Vivian?”
The dirt on their faces couldn’t hide it.
They had her eyes. Her nose. Her bone structure.
Vivian’s expression cracked.
“You’re lying!” she shouted. “You’re making this up! I want a DNA test!”
Most of the people in the room already knew the truth. They could see it in the resemblance.
I pulled a folder from my bag.
“These are the DNA results. Ryan Taylor. Jacob and Jonah. See for yourself.”
I tossed the file onto the table.
Vivian snatched it up and flipped through the pages–faster and faster–until she reached the last
one.
She collapsed to her knees.
“No… this can’t be real. You faked it. You’re insane!”
I pointed to the red stamp on the document.
“Government notarized. Maybe next time, try using your brain.”
Everyone stared at the page, stunned into silence.
Chapter 4
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Only my sons stood tall behind me, calm at last.
The truth was simple.
Ryan and Vivian never di
The car crash was staged.
Their cremation was rushed. Too rushed.
And I’d always had my doubts.
After Ryan’s “death,” I found out I was pregnant–with twins.
So I made a plan.
I volunteered to take in the “illegitimate children” they left behind.
Told everyone I was too heartbroken to stay, and moved to the countryside.
Two years later, I returned with my twin sons.
Everyone assumed they were Ryan and Vivian’s bastards.
Even my parents and friends.
They called me a fool. Said I was degrading myself, raising someone else’s kids.
But I never listened.
Because I wasn’t raising someone else’s children.
I was raising my own.
And everything I did… was for this moment.
