Ethan slammed the brakes, the truck lurching.
- “What’d you say?”
Rachel blinked, confused.
- “Grandpa Joe, who died in World War II. Blond, blue eyes, same birthmark on his left cheek. You’ve seen the family album, right? Noah’s his twin.”
Ethan’s jaw tightened, realization crashing over him. He spun the truck around, tires screeching, and sped home. Bursting through the door, he fixed Lisa with a glare that made her shrink.
- “They find Noah?” she asked, her voice trembling.
- “No, but I found out about you,” Ethan roared. “You lied about Sarah, about Noah not being mine!”
- “How’d you know?” Lisa whispered, her face ashen.
- “Doesn’t matter. Why?”
- “I love you, Ethan! I wanted you to let Sarah go, to start over with me. I didn’t want to raise Noah, I wanted our own kid. But you kept him!”
Ethan’s fists trembled. He wanted to scream, to break something, but he forced himself to turn away.
- “Be gone when I’m back,” he said, his voice deadly calm. “Don’t ever come near us again.”
He rejoined the search, his heart pounding. At the forest’s edge, volunteers were smiling, pointing to an ambulance. Ethan sprinted over, his breath catching. Noah sat inside, wrapped in a blanket, his face dirty but unharmed. When he saw Ethan, his lip quivered.
- “Dad, I’m sorry,” Noah said, voice small. “I tried to come back, but I got lost.”
Ethan scooped him up, holding him tight.
- “No, son, I’m sorry. I’ve been a lousy dad. That’s over now. I promise.”
Tears streamed down Ethan’s face, more than he’d shed at Sarah’s funeral. He hugged Noah, vowing to love him as fiercely as he loved Mia and Ava, to be the father he should’ve been all along.