Celeste tried to talk at first. She made sharp little comments about Norah’s appearance, about how some people always ended up exactly where they belonged, about how Dominic should be grateful he had moved on.
But Dominic barely heard her.
All he could see were the babies.
Their faces.
Their eyes.
The way one of them had reached a tiny hand toward Norah’s collar while she walked away.
That night, Dominic stood in his kitchen long after midnight, staring at the lights over the back patio.
He thought about the timeline.
He thought about the divorce.
He thought about the day he had told Norah to leave.
She had tried to speak. He remembered that now. She had stood in the foyer with tears in her eyes, holding a small envelope in her trembling hand.
He had not let her finish.
He had been too angry.
Too proud.
Too certain.
At two in the morning, Dominic picked up his phone and called a private investigator he had used years earlier for business matters.
His name was Owen Kincaid.
Owen answered on the third ring, his voice rough with sleep.
“Dominic? This better be important.”
Dominic closed his eyes.
“It is,” he said. “I need you to find out everything you can about my ex-wife, Norah Winslow. Where she’s been, who helped her, what happened after the divorce. And Owen… I need the truth, not what people wanted me to believe.”
There was a pause.
Then Owen said, “I’ll start now.”
The First Truth
Three days later, Owen called.
Dominic was in his office in Atlanta, standing beside a window overlooking the city. The moment he heard Owen’s voice, he knew something was wrong.
“You need to sit down,” Owen said.
Dominic’s hand tightened around the phone.
“Tell me.”
Owen exhaled slowly.
“Ten and a half months ago, Norah checked into a county medical center outside Perry. She was pregnant.”
Dominic’s entire body went still.
“Pregnant?”
“Yes,” Owen said. “With twins.”
Dominic gripped the edge of his desk.
The room seemed to tilt.
“Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
“She tried,” Owen said quietly. “She listed you as her emergency contact. She gave your cell number, your office line, even your private home number.”
Dominic shook his head, though Owen could not see him.
“I never got a call.”
“I know,” Owen replied. “That’s why I kept looking.”
Dominic could hear papers moving on the other end.
“Someone interfered with the records,” Owen continued. “Not the medical details themselves, but the contact requests and notification trail. A payment was made through a legal services account to have certain communications redirected.”
Dominic’s throat went dry.
“Whose account?”
Owen hesitated.
That hesitation said more than any answer could.
“I’m sending you the file now,” Owen said.
Seconds later, Dominic’s laptop chimed.
He opened the attachment with shaking hands.
At the bottom of the authorization form was a name.
Celeste Monroe.
Dominic stared at it until the letters blurred.
The Lies Begin to Collapse
At first, Dominic wanted there to be another explanation.
A mistake.
A misunderstanding.
Anything.
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