“Let’s be honest,” he went on. “If I hadn’t thrown you out three years ago, you’d probably still be washing dishes in somebody else’s kitchen.”
He drew breath to continue, ready with another insult, when the front door flew open.
“Mom! Come see the tower we built!”
Three little boys came running onto the porch, laughing and talking over each other. They were dressed in crisp white shirts and looked healthy, sturdy, and very much at home.
They stopped short when they saw the strangers in the yard.
Richard opened his mouth—and said nothing.
His face drained of color. The hand holding his cane began to shake.
Because standing in front of him were not just three children.
They were three unmistakable members of his family.
Every feature said it plainly: the eyes, the chin, the posture, the expression. There was no mystery, no guesswork, no room for denial.
“My God,” he said under his breath. “What is this?”
Mike leaned against the SUV as if his legs had given out.
Kate, by contrast, stayed perfectly calm. She walked to her sons and rested a protective hand on each small shoulder.
Then she looked Richard straight in the eye.
“These are my sons, Mr. Grant,” she said evenly. “The same children you said you didn’t want. The same children you dismissed before they were even born.”
“You may look at them from where you stand. That’s all.”
The silence in the yard was heavy.
