Chapter 4
The first year passed in a blur of sleepless nights and firsts.
First smiles.
First giggles.
First steps— Leo at ten months, crashing into walls like a tiny drunk man, Ethan two weeks later, careful and deliberate, holding onto the couch until he was absolutely sure he wouldn't fall.
I rented a small house in a quiet neighborhood, bought a used minivan, and went back to work at the bookstore, now as assistant manager.
We had a routine.
A safe, predictable life.
And for the first time since I'd walked out of that office, I could breathe.
But the boys grew.
And as they grew, the resemblance to Julian became impossible to ignore.
At eighteen months, people started stopping me in the grocery store.
"Oh my goodness, those eyes! They look just like—"
And then they'd trail off, because they couldn't quite place it.
But I could.
Every time Leo threw his head back and laughed, I saw Julian at twenty-two, carefree and broke and happy.
Every time Ethan studied a puzzle with that intense, focused frown, I saw Julian in the library, working through a problem set, his lower lip between his teeth.
They were him.
Through and through.
And every day, the risk grew.
When the boys turned two, I enrolled them in a tiny in-home daycare run by a retired teacher named Mrs. Chen.
She loved them like her own grandchildren.
"They're special, Audrey," she told me one afternoon as I picked them up.
"So smart. So kind. You've done a wonderful job with them."
I forced a smile.
"Thanks, Mrs. Chen."
But as I buckled the boys into their car seats, my hands were shaking.
Because the boys had started asking questions.
Simple questions.
Questions that tore my heart out.
"Mommy?" Leo said that night over mac and cheese.
"Where's Daddy?"
Ethan looked up from his food, his little head tilting.
"Yeah. Where Daddy?"
My fork froze halfway to my mouth.
I'd been dreading this moment.
Practicing answers in the shower, in the car, in the middle of the night when I couldn't sleep.
But nothing I'd rehearsed felt right.
Nothing felt true without hurting them.
"Daddy..." I began, my voice thick.
"Daddy lives far away. He... he has a very important job. And he loves you both very, very much. But he can't be with us right now."
It wasn't a lie.
Not exactly.
Julian did have an important job.
And if he knew about them, he would love them.
But he didn't know.
And that was entirely my fault.
Leo seemed satisfied with the answer.
He went back to his mac and cheese.
But Ethan kept staring at me.
Those dark, knowing eyes.
Julian's eyes.
He didn't say anything else.
But I knew.
Somehow, at two years old, he knew I wasn't telling him everything.
In Manhattan, Julian was turning thirty-five.
His mother threw him a lavish party at the Plaza— two hundred guests, caviar, champagne, a string quartet.
Madison was at his side, as always, playing the perfect hostess.
Everyone assumed they were together.
Everyone assumed an engagement announcement was imminent.
But Julian hadn't touched her since that night in the office almost three years earlier.
He'd kept her on as his COO— she was brilliant at her job, and he'd be a fool to fire her— but the line between them had been drawn.
And Madison hated every second of it.
She smiled for the guests.
She laughed at the right moments.
But inside, she was drowning in resentment.
Three years.
Three years of being the woman at his side in public, and the woman who slept alone in a cold bed at night.
Three years of watching him check his phone every five minutes, waiting for a call from his investigator.
Three years of being second place to a ghost.
"Happy birthday, darling," Julian's mother said, kissing his cheek.
She lowered her voice.
"When are you going to make an honest woman out of Madison? Everyone's asking. The society pages are practically writing the wedding announcement themselves."
Julian swirled the champagne in his glass.
"There's nothing to announce, Mother. Madison is my business partner. Nothing more."
His mother's eyes flashed.
"Don't be ridiculous. You're thirty-five years old. You need a wife. You need heirs. The Foster name—"
"Will survive without me producing the next generation on your schedule."
He turned and walked away before she could respond.
He found his investigator in a quiet corner of the ballroom, pretending to admire a painting.
"Anything?" Julian asked without looking at him.
The man nodded almost imperceptibly.
"Upstate New York. Small town outside Albany. A house was rented three years ago under the name 'A. Bennett.' Landlord is a widow in her seventies. Describes the tenant as 'quiet, nice, keeps to herself. Has two little boys.'"
Julian's champagne glass shattered in his hand.
Shards of crystal and golden liquid went flying.
Two little boys.
The room seemed to tilt on its axis.
"Mr. Foster?" the investigator said, alarmed.
"Are you alright?"
Two little boys.
Three years ago.
That was when Audrey had vanished.
That was nine months before the boys would have been born.
The math was simple.
Devastating.
*My* boys.
"Get me the address," Julian said, his voice so low the investigator almost didn't hear him.
"Now."
"Sir, the boys— are they—"
"*Get me the address.*"
Madison saw the whole thing from across the room.
She saw Julian's face go white.
She saw the glass shatter.
She saw him speaking urgently to the man in the corner.
And she knew.
He'd found her.
A cold, terrible fury washed over her.
*Not if I can help it*, she thought.
*Not after everything I've done.*
She waited until Julian left the party without a word to anyone.
Then she found the investigator alone by the coat check.
She smiled her most charming smile.
"Excuse me. I don't think we've been properly introduced. I'm Madison Carter. I work with Julian."
The man's eyes widened slightly.
He knew who she was.
Everyone did.
"Ma'am."
"I saw you speaking to Julian earlier. He seemed... upset. Is everything alright?"
The investigator hesitated.
"Mr. Foster's business is his own, Ms. Carter."
"Of course. Of course."
She stepped closer, lowering her voice.
"But I'm sure you know how loyal I am to him. How long I've been by his side. If there's anything I can do to help... anything at all... I want you to know I can be trusted. Completely."
She slipped a thick white envelope into his hand.
The investigator looked down.
He could feel the thickness of the cash inside.
Enough to pay for his daughter's college tuition.
Enough to change his life.
"I don't know what you mean, ma'am," he said, but he didn't give the envelope back.
Madison smiled.
"Of course you don't. But if anything... unexpected... should happen during your investigation. Anything that might upset Mr. Foster unnecessarily... I'm sure you'd know the right thing to do."
She turned and walked away.
Behind her, the investigator slipped the envelope into his pocket.
He looked at the address he'd written on a slip of paper.
142 Oakwood Lane.
Maplewood, New York.
He thought of the two little boys.
He thought of Audrey Bennett.
He thought of the envelope in his pocket.
And he made a choice.
One that would shatter lives.
Three days later, he called Julian.
"Sir? I'm sorry. The lead was a dead end. Wrong Audrey Bennett. Different age, different description. No kids. I'm still looking."
On the other end of the line, Julian felt his hope crumble into dust.
"Keep looking," he said quietly.
"Don't stop. Ever."
He hung up.
And in a small house in Maplewood, New York, I laughed as Leo chased Ethan around the living room, both of them screaming with joy, completely unaware that their father had been this close to finding them.
Completely unaware that a woman they'd never met had just paid to keep them hidden.
And completely unaware that the clock was still ticking.
Because Julian Foster never stopped.
Not when he wanted something.
And now he knew.
May you like
Somewhere in the world, he had two sons.
And he would burn every city to the ground to find them.
