Chapter 12 - THE DAY HE CAME LOOKING FOR US
I found Gabriel standing beside the safe-house pool.
The boys were throwing foam airplanes across the lawn.
He smiled when he saw me.
Then noticed my expression.
“What happened?”
I held up Margaret's letter.
His smile disappeared.
“You went to see my mother.”
He looked away.
“Six months after the divorce.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I realized I had made a mistake.”
My chest tightened.
“When?”
“The first morning I woke up and didn't know where you were.”
“That quickly?”
He almost laughed.
“I was stubborn.”
“That is one word.”
“I spent months convincing myself you were safer.”
“And then?”
“Daniel sent an anonymous message.”
My heart stopped.
“What message?”
She's alive. Stop being a coward.
I almost smiled.
“That sounds like Daniel.”
“Yes.”
“So you found Margaret.”
“She refused to tell me where you were.”
“Because Serena told her not to.”
Gabriel's jaw tightened.
“I didn't know that.”
“What did you think?”
“That Margaret hated me.”
“She probably did.”
“Reasonably.”
I looked toward the boys.
“You could have found us anyway.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you?”
His expression changed.
“Because Margaret told me something.”
“What?”
“She said you were happier.”
I stared.
“What?”
“She said you had built a quiet life. That you were finally sleeping again.”
My throat tightened.
“I believed I'd done enough damage.”
So he stopped looking.
Not because he didn't care.
Because he thought leaving me alone was love.
We had both spent five years loving each other in the most destructive ways possible.
I laughed softly.
“We were idiots.”
“Completely.”
I looked at him.
“What happens now?”
He didn't move closer.
“Whatever you choose.”
“What if I don't know?”
“Then we don't rush.”
That answer mattered.
Weeks passed.
Not dramatically.
That's what surprised me.
Gabriel began learning his children.
Noah loved strategy games.
Eli hated tomatoes.
Lucas asked approximately sixty questions per hour.
Gabriel attended soccer.
School orientation.
A pediatric appointment.
He nearly threatened a father at the playground after the man called Lucas annoying.
I grabbed his wrist.
Again.
“Stop.”
He looked at my hand.
Then smiled.
“Familiar.”
“Don't.”
He stopped.
Immediately.
No argument.
Progress.
We returned to Manhattan after Victor's trial began.
I kept my apartment.
Gabriel didn't argue.
The boys stayed with him every other weekend.
At first, I expected him to delegate everything to staff.
He didn't.
He made breakfast.
Badly.
Drove them himself.
Learned bedtime stories.
Once called me at midnight because Eli had a fever of 100.2.
“Gabriel, that's barely a fever.”
“He looks sick.”
“He has a cold.”
“Should we go to the hospital?”
“No.”
“Claire.”
“Give him children's acetaminophen and let him sleep.”
Silence.
“Which bottle?”
I laughed for ten minutes.
Then something shifted.
The boys stopped saying Gabriel.
They started saying Dad.
Naturally.
Without discussion.
One evening, I picked them up from his estate.
Lucas ran ahead.
“Mom! Dad burned pancakes.”
“I didn't burn them,” Gabriel called.
“They were black.”
“Caramelized.”
“Dad, that's lying.”
I laughed.
Gabriel looked at me.
For a moment, we were a family.
Not fixed.
Not restored.
Something new.
Then Adrian arrived.
His arm had healed.
He was working under federal supervision while his cooperation agreement proceeded.
His expression was serious.
“Boss.”
Gabriel frowned.
“What?”
“Victor's trial team found a sealed account.”
I tensed.
“What kind?”
“A trust.”
Gabriel's face hardened.
“For who?”
Adrian looked at the boys.
“For a fourth child.”
Silence.
I stared.
“What fourth child?”
Gabriel looked confused.
Adrian handed him the file.
Beneficiary:
ALEXANDER CROSS.
Age: five.
Birth date:
The same day as our triplets.
My blood went cold.
Gabriel looked at me.
I whispered,
“There wasn't a fourth baby.”
May you like
Adrian's face tightened.
“According to these records, there was.”
