PART 4 — The Night Genevieve Disappeared
Julian stared at me.
“What do you mean you disappeared?”
I said nothing.
Michael stepped closer.
“Genevieve?”
I looked at him.
“Take the children upstairs.”
Julian shook his head.
“No. Whatever this is, I need to know.”
“You don't.”
“Yes, I do.”
His voice cracked.
“For ten years, I believed you left me.”
“I didn't.”
“You vanished.”
“I was forced to.”
Julian went completely still.
“By whom?”
I looked toward the road where Victoria's car had disappeared.
“I don't know.”
“What?”
“The night after you signed the divorce papers, I went back to my apartment.”
Julian listened.
“I was packing when someone knocked.”
“Who?”
“A man I had never seen before.”
He threatened me.
He told me if I tried to contact you again, you would lose everything.”
Julian's jaw tightened.
“Why?”
“I didn't know.”
I continued.
“He showed me photographs of you leaving work. Your mother. Harrison. Everyone you loved.”
Julian whispered:
“He threatened my family?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you go to the police?”
“Because he knew things only someone close to your family could know.”
Michael looked horrified.
“You're saying someone inside the Sterling family arranged this?”
“I believe so.”
Julian took a step toward me.
“And you believed them?”
“I was pregnant.”
His face softened.
“I was terrified.”
I looked toward the house.
“My children were not born yet. I couldn't risk them.”
Julian closed his eyes.
“I would have protected you.”
I almost smiled.
“You didn't protect me when I needed you.”
He flinched.
“You're right.”
Then he looked at me.
“But I would have tried.”
“I know.”
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then my phone rang again.
Same unknown number.
This time I answered on speaker.
The man's voice returned.
“You're getting close.”
Julian stepped forward.
“Who are you?”
The caller laughed.
“You really don't remember?”
Julian frowned.
“No.”
“You should.”
The line went silent.
Then a recording played.
A woman's voice.
Victoria.
“Make sure she leaves town.”
Julian's face turned white.
Another voice answered.
The same mysterious man.
“And the children?”
Victoria replied:
“If there are children, make sure Julian never knows.”
The recording ended.
Michael whispered:
“Oh my God.”
Julian looked at me.
“I believe you.”
Those four words should have meant everything to me.
Instead, they hurt.
Because they came ten years too late.
Then we heard footsteps behind us.
Ethan stood at the doorway.
He had heard everything.
“Mom?”
I rushed toward him.
“You weren't supposed to listen.”
He looked at Julian.
“Is he really my father?”
Julian stopped breathing.
I knelt beside Ethan.
“Yes.”
Ethan looked at him for several seconds.
Then he asked:
“Why didn't you come find us?”
Julian's eyes filled with tears.
“I didn't know you existed.”
“But Mom knew you existed.”
Julian looked at me.
“I know.”
Ethan's expression hardened.
“You should have looked harder.”
Julian nodded.
“You're right.”
Ethan walked past him.
He didn't hug him.
He didn't even touch him.
But he didn't run away either.
That was enough.
Then Noah, Luke, Rose and Emma appeared behind him.
Five children.
Five witnesses.
Five pieces of a life Julian had missed.
Rose looked at Julian.
“Are you sad?”
He knelt.
“Yes.”
“Because Grandpa died?”
“That too.”
She tilted her head.
“Then why are you crying when you look at us?”
Julian broke.
He covered his face.
I watched silently.
For ten years, I had imagined this reunion.
I had imagined anger.
I had imagined shouting.
I had imagined revenge.
I had never imagined pity.
But that was what I felt.
Not for Julian.
For the man he could have been.
Suddenly, a car screeched outside.
Michael looked through the window.
“There's someone at the gate.”
A black sedan stopped.
Two men stepped out.
Julian immediately moved in front of the children.
“Get them upstairs.”
I grabbed my phone.
“Who are they?”
“I don't know.”
One of the men approached the front door.
Then stopped.
He placed an envelope on the ground.
And walked away.
Julian waited until the car disappeared.
Then he picked it up.
Inside was a photograph.
My photograph.
Taken ten years ago.
I was standing outside my apartment.
Pregnant.
Beside me was a man.
Julian stared at it.
“Who is this?”
I looked at the photograph.
My blood ran cold.
“I don't know.”
The man standing beside pregnant me was not a stranger.
He was wearing a military uniform.
And he was holding a baby blanket.
Julian looked at the date.
Then looked at me.
“This was taken after our divorce.”
“Yes.”
“Genevieve…”
He turned the photograph over.
There was writing on the back.
“One of your children isn't yours.”
Nobody moved.
Rose began crying.
I pulled all five children against me.
Julian stared at the photograph.
“No.”
He looked at me.
“Tell me this isn't true.”
I couldn't speak.
Because there was something I had never told anyone.
When the twins were born, the doctors had warned me that one of the babies had a different blood type than expected.
I had never questioned it.
Until now.
Julian whispered:
“Which one?”
I looked at my children.
And suddenly, the past I had spent ten years trying to bury became something much darker.
Because if that photograph was real…
someone had lied to me about my own children.
