Not I’ll make it up to them.
Just good.
For some reason, that answer stayed with me.
Two weeks passed.
Damien saw the boys twice, both times at a public park with me present.
The first visit was awkward.
Ethan arrived carrying a notebook full of questions.
“What’s your favorite dinosaur?”
“Do you know how airplanes stay up?”
“Can rich people eat cereal for dinner?”
“Do you have a house with stairs?”
Damien answered every question seriously, except the cereal one, which he admitted required further thought.
Noah stayed close to me at first, observing.
Then, near the end of the visit, Damien noticed him staring at a fallen bird’s nest beneath a tree.
“Do you want to look?” Damien asked.
Noah hesitated, then nodded.
They crouched together beside it.
Damien didn’t touch the nest. He simply pointed out the bits of twig and grass, explaining how carefully birds build, how they choose soft pieces for the inside.
Noah listened.
Then he said, “It fell.”
“Yes,” Damien replied.
“Will the birds come back?”
“Maybe not to this one.”
Noah’s face fell.
Damien looked at him, then added, “But they might build another. Somewhere safer.”
Noah considered this.
“Can we put it under the tree so no one steps on it?”
“Yes.”
Together, they moved the broken nest to the base of the trunk.
It was such a small thing.
But I saw Noah glance back at Damien afterward with something new in his eyes.
Not trust.
Not yet.
But possibility.
The second visit was easier.
Ethan brought a small plastic robot and declared that Damien was now an apprentice engineer. Damien accepted the promotion gravely. Noah brought his fox but pretended he had not brought it for comfort.
I sat on a bench with coffee growing cold in my hands and watched the three of them build a city out of sticks and pebbles.
For a dangerous moment, I saw the outline of a life that might have been.
Then my phone buzzed.
A message from Serena.
Call me when you can. We received something unusual.
I looked up.
Damien was helping Ethan balance a pebble on a twig bridge.
Noah was laughing.
The sound made my chest ache.
I called Serena after the visit, once the boys were buckled in and distracted by snacks.
“What happened?” I asked.
“I received a packet by courier,” Serena said. “No sender. It contains copies of documents related to the alleged settlement agreement.”
My hand tightened on the steering wheel.
“Forged?”
“Almost certainly. But that isn’t the unusual part.”
“What is?”
Serena paused.
“There’s a second document. A hospital intake record from the week after your meeting with Vivienne Mercer.”
I went still.
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