“For the children,” she said. “Only if Evelyn decides they should have them.”
Inside were letters she had written to Lily and Samuel—not claiming them, not asking them to love her, simply telling them the truth about where they came from and why she had failed to protect their mother’s choices.
Evelyn read them first.
She allowed Victoria to send one.
Then, slowly, another.
The paternity test was completed in the spring.
The results confirmed what my heart had already begun to understand.
Lily and Samuel were my children.
But biology did not grant me a place in their lives. It gave me a responsibility to earn one.
I visited Boston every other weekend at first. I stayed in a small hotel. I learned which books Lily liked, which foods Samuel refused, and how long both children needed to settle after a busy day.
Julian remained their father.
