“You were preparing to marry Vanessa.
You had already filed for divorce.
Your attorney sent financial disclosure documents, property agreements, and paternity notices together.
Maybe you didn’t read everything you signed.”
He looked up sharply.
“You’re saying I had sons for thirteen years and nobody told me?”
“I am saying
you were told repeatedly, and you made it very clear that you wanted your new life more than you wanted to investigate the old one.
”
His mouth opened.
Closed.
Across the lobby, Owen glanced toward us.
I gave him a small smile to let him know I was fine.
Daniel followed my gaze.
“What are their names again?”
Something inside me went cold.
“Eli and Owen.”
He swallowed.
“Which one is—”
“Don’t.”
He stopped.
“You have known they exist for less than an hour.
Do not make them responsible for helping you distinguish between them.”
He looked ashamed.
Good.
Not because I wanted him humiliated.
Because shame was an appropriate response to certain truths.
“I want to talk to them.”
“No.”
“Claire.”
“They decide.”
