Richard Grant, a man who had bullied competitors, pressured public officials, and controlled every room he entered, now seemed barely able to stay upright.
His eyes moved from Ethan to Benjamin to Daniel and back again.
Each boy had the same dimple in the chin Richard had seen in his own childhood photos. The same habit of narrowing one eye in bright sun.
“They’re really triplets,” he said hoarsely. “Mike, look at them. They’re Grants. There’s no question.”
Mike stepped forward, tears already on his face. He reached out a trembling hand.
The boys immediately stepped back and pressed themselves against their mother.
To them, these men were strangers.
Cold strangers.
“Kate, please,” Mike said, his voice breaking. “Why didn’t you tell me they looked like me?”
She gave him a tired, almost disbelieving look.
“I sent you a letter,” she said. “Certified mail. You and your father threw it away.”
“You chose his money, his approval, and the easy life. Don’t stand here now and ask me why.”
Richard, recovering quickly, did what men like him always do: he began calculating.
These three boys, he realized, were now his only real chance at heirs. Mike’s marriage had produced nothing, and likely never would.
