Claire and the Boys
I stepped forward, the hum of the terminal fading beneath the pounding in my chest.
“Claire,” I said, voice raw, “what the hell is this?”
She startled, a gasp escaping her lips as she brushed a strand of silver hair from her forehead.
“Adrian… I… I didn’t know you’d be here,” she whispered, eyes darting to the two small heads curled against her.
The older boy, his dark curls spilling over the suitcase, lifted his gaze and stared at me with my own eyes.
“Those… those aren’t yours?” I asked, the question a tremor.
She swallowed, fingers tightening around the handle.
“They’re… they’re my children,” Claire stammered, tears flashing. “Your children.” FindFamily Lawyer
My mind raced—six years of denial, the corporate grind, the whispered warnings of my mother.
“Why?” I demanded, heat rising. “Why hide them?”
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Claire’s shoulders slumped, the weight of years pressing down.
