Chapter 1 - Four Boys Who Had My Face
I stared at the four boys as if someone had pulled the floor out from beneath me.
They stared back.
For several seconds, none of us spoke.
The restaurant bathroom suddenly felt too small.
Too quiet.
Too bright.
One of the boys reached for a paper towel.
He folded it twice before wiping his hands.
I did the same thing.
Another boy glanced toward the mirror, frowned at his reflection, and tugged down the collar of his sweater.
I had spent thirty-seven years doing exactly that whenever I was nervous.
My mouth went dry.
There are moments in a man's life when instinct knows the truth long before his mind is willing to accept it.
This was one of those moments.
The boy closest to me looked about six years old.
Dark brown hair.
Gray-green eyes.
A narrow jaw.
A tiny crease between his eyebrows when he concentrated.
My crease.
My eyes.
My face.
Not similar.
Not vaguely familiar.
Mine.
I took one involuntary step backward.
The boy looked frightened.
"Are you okay, mister?"
His voice was soft.
I swallowed.
"Yeah."
The word barely came out.
"I'm fine."
I wasn't.
I couldn't be.
Because I remembered what I looked like at six.
My mother had kept an old photograph of me in a silver frame on her bedroom dresser. I had hated that picture because my hair was badly cut and I was missing one front tooth.
But there was something else about it.
The same expression.
The same eyes.
The same slight tilt of my head.
I had seen it every morning for years.
And now I was looking at four copies of it.
"What's your name?" I asked before I could stop myself.
The tallest boy looked suspicious.
"Why?"
"Sorry."
I straightened.
"I didn't mean to scare you."
A second boy stepped closer to his brother.
The first answered anyway.
"I'm Noah."
The boy beside him raised his chin.
"I'm Lucas."
"I'm Eli."
"And I'm Owen."
Four names.
Four faces.
One impossible resemblance.
I forced myself to breathe.
"Are you brothers?"
They nodded.
"Twins?"
"No," Noah said.
"We're quadruplets."
The word struck me harder than it should have.
Quadruplets.
Four boys.
One mother.
Six years old.
My hands suddenly felt cold.
I glanced at their reflections.
Four boys.
Four identical faces.
And then something inside me whispered a name I had buried six years ago.
Mara.
I hadn't heard her voice in six years.
But I remembered everything else.
The way she laughed when she was trying not to.
The way she tucked loose hair behind her ear when she was angry.
The tiny scar beneath her chin.
The way she used to look at me as if I was the only person in the room.
And the night she left.
I had been thirty-one.
She had been twenty-nine.
We had been together for nearly two years.
I had planned to marry her.
I had bought a ring.
I had even secretly rented a small house in Concord because she had once told me she wanted a garden where she could grow tomatoes.
Then my grandfather summoned me to his office.
He had never asked me to sit down before.
That night, he did.
He told me Mara had been investigating my family.
He told me she had approached people for information about our company.
He told me she had been using me.
And then he gave me a photograph.
Mara standing beside another man.
His hand was around her waist.
My grandfather said the man was her boyfriend.
He said she'd been seeing him before she'd met me.
I had believed him.
God help me, I had believed him.
I confronted Mara.
She cried.
She denied everything.
Then my father walked into the room and told me he'd already confirmed it.
My mother backed him up.
Three people I trusted.
One woman I loved.
I chose my family.
Mara disappeared from my life two days later.
No goodbye.
No explanation.
Nothing.
And I had spent six years convincing myself I had made the right choice.
Until now.
The bathroom door opened behind me.
A woman hurried inside.
She was wearing a long beige coat over a dark green dress.
Her hair was pulled into a loose knot.
She looked older than the woman I remembered.
Not dramatically.
Just enough to remind me that six years had passed for both of us.
She stopped when she saw me.
The color drained from her face.
I stopped breathing.
"Mara."
Her eyes widened.
"Adrian."
The boys immediately moved toward her.
"Mom."
Mom.
The word echoed through me.
She put one hand protectively on Noah's shoulder.
Then she looked at me again.
There was no anger in her expression.
That somehow hurt more.
Only exhaustion.
And something that looked dangerously close to fear.
"What are you doing here?" she asked.
I couldn't answer.
My eyes moved from her to the boys.
Then back to her.
"Mara..."
She shook her head.
"Not here."
"Are they—"
"Don't."
Her voice cracked.
The boys looked between us.
Noah frowned.
"Mom, do you know him?"
Mara closed her eyes for half a second.
When she opened them, she looked directly at me.
"Yes."
"Who is he?"
She didn't answer.
I did.
"My name is Adrian."
Noah looked at me.
Then at his mother.
"Why does he look like us?"
Silence.
Mara's face changed.
I saw it.
That tiny hesitation.
That split second when a person realizes the lie they've protected for years is finally standing in front of them.
I stepped closer.
"Are they mine?"
Mara's eyes filled with tears.
She whispered one sentence.
And my entire life shattered.
"Yes."
I couldn't move.
The boys were mine.
All four.
My sons.
For six years, I'd believed I had no children.
For six years, I'd believed Mara had betrayed me.
For six years, I'd allowed my family to convince me that walking away from her had been the honorable thing.
Meanwhile, four little boys who carried my face had grown up without knowing their father.
I looked at Mara.
"Why?"
She looked down.
"Because you told me you didn't believe me."
"I didn't know."
"You didn't want to know."
"I was lied to."
"So was I."
Her voice trembled.
"Adrian, you didn't just leave me. You disappeared."
"My family said—"
"I know what your family said."
She looked up.
"They made sure I never had a chance to tell you the truth."
My chest tightened.
"What truth?"
She laughed bitterly.
"You really don't know?"
"No."
She stared at me for several seconds.
Then she whispered:
"Your grandfather knew about the boys."
My blood ran cold.
"What?"
Mara took the boys' hands.
"That's why I kept them away."
The bathroom door opened again.
A restaurant employee appeared.
"Ma'am? Everything okay?"
Mara nodded quickly.
"Yes."
Then she looked at me one last time.
"If you still want answers, come outside."
She led the boys away.
I remained frozen beside the sink.
My phone vibrated in my pocket.
Sloane.
Then again.
My fiancée.
The woman I was supposed to propose to in less than an hour.
I pulled out my phone.
A message appeared.
Sloane: Everyone is ready. Your grandfather just arrived. Don't be late.
I looked at the four boys disappearing through the restaurant doorway.
Then at the diamond ring inside my jacket.
For the first time in my life, I knew exactly what I had to do.
I called my driver.
"Cancel the conservatory."
A pause.
"Sir?"
"Cancel everything."
"What should I tell Mr. Whitmore?"
I looked toward the door Mara had disappeared through.
May you like
"Tell him I found something more important."
And for the first time in thirty-seven years, I stopped letting my family decide what my life would be.
