5

Six Years Later

Bruce Anderson sat in his car, stuck in New York traffic, staring blankly at the line of red brake lights ahead. His driver had suggested taking a different route, but Bruce hadn't been paying attention. He never paid attention anymore.

Six years.

Six years since Marian had vanished.

He'd woken up that morning in her room, his head pounding, memories of the night before blurry but present enough to make him sick. He'd gone to her. He'd been drunk. He'd thought...

God, he'd thought she was Elisabeth.

The shame had been crushing. He'd left her room before she woke up, had avoided her for days. Then, two months later, she'd come to him, shaking, crying, holding a pregnancy test in her trembling hands.

"Bruce, I'm pregnant."

He could still see her face. The hope and terror mixed together. The way she'd looked at him like he held her entire world in his hands.

And he'd destroyed her.

"You're lying." Those had been his first words. Not concern. Not surprise. Just cold accusation. "You're trying to trap me."

"Bruce, please, it's yours! That night you came to my room "

"I was drunk! I don't even remember! You probably brought some other man here, didn't you? Thought you could pass off his bastard as mine?"

The memory made him physically ill now. The way her face had crumbled. The way she'd begged him to believe her, to just listen, to please, please understand.

He hadn't listened.

He'd drawn up divorce papers within days. Thrown a settlement check at her not even a generous one, just enough to make himself feel less guilty. She'd signed with shaking hands, refused the money, and walked out of his life.

He'd told himself he'd done the right thing. That she'd been lying. That he'd dodged a bullet.

But the doubt had started almost immediately.

What if she'd been telling the truth? What if that baby was his?

He'd tried to find her. God, how he'd tried. He'd hired the best private investigators money could buy. They'd searched for months, then years. But Marian Williams had vanished completely no credit cards, no job records, no rental agreements. It was like she'd ceased to exist.

His investigators had finally concluded she'd either left the country or was using a false identity. Either way, she didn't want to be found.

And could he blame her? After what he'd done?

The worst part was realizing, too late, that somewhere along the way he'd stopped thinking about Elisabeth and started thinking about Marian. The quiet way she'd tried to make him comfortable. Her gentle concern even when he'd treated her like garbage. The sadness in her eyes that he'd ignored.

He'd been so busy mourning Elisabeth that he'd never seen the woman right in front of him.

And now she was gone.

"Sir, traffic's finally moving," his driver said.

Bruce nodded absently. "Take the scenic route back. I'm not in a hurry."

"Past the park, sir?"

"Sure. Whatever."

The car turned down a tree-lined street. Bruce stared out the window, not really seeing anything. Another empty day. Another night alone in that massive house. Another year of wondering where she was, if she was okay, if she'd

He sat up straight, his heart suddenly pounding.

"Stop the car."

"Sir?"

"STOP THE CAR!"

The driver hit the brakes. Bruce was out before the car fully stopped, his eyes locked on a woman across the street.

She was at a small café, sitting at an outdoor table, laughing at something. But it wasn't her laughter that made his world tilt.

It was the three children with her.

Three kids, maybe five or six years old. Two boys and a girl. They were giggling, reaching for cookies on a plate, completely at ease with the woman who was...

Marian.

His feet moved before his brain could catch up. He crossed the street, dodging cars, ignoring angry honks. His eyes never left her.

She hadn't seen him yet. She was wiping chocolate off one of the boy's faces, smiling with such pure love it made his chest ache.

He stopped a few feet from their table, breathing hard.

One of the boys looked up first. "Mommy, there's a man staring at us."

Marian's head snapped up. Her eyes met his.

And Bruce watched all the color drain from her face.

"Bruce?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

He couldn't speak. Couldn't move. Couldn't do anything but stare at her, then at the children, then back at her.

The little girl tugged on Marian's sleeve. "Mommy, who is he?"

But Bruce wasn't looking at the girl anymore. He was looking at one of the boys the one who'd spoken first. The one who'd just turned to face him fully.

Those eyes.

Blueberry blue. Exactly like his own.

Bruce's legs nearly gave out. His hand shot out, gripping the back of an empty chair to steady himself.

"Marian," he managed, his voice cracking. "What... who..."

She stood up quickly, placing herself between him and the children. Protective. Defensive. "You need to leave. Now."

"Those children " His eyes darted to all three of them. The other boy had the same eyes. So did the girl. All three of them. "Marian, those eyes..."

"I said leave!" Her voice was sharp now, but he could hear the tremor underneath.

"Are they..." He couldn't finish the sentence. His throat had closed up. He looked at her, really looked at her, and saw the truth written all over her face.

Terror. Anger. And something else.

Guilt at being caught.

"Oh my God," he breathed. "They're mine. Aren't they? Marian... are those my children?"

She didn't answer. She just grabbed her purse, started gathering the kids.

"Marian, wait "

"We're leaving. Kids, come on."

"But Mommy, we didn't finish our cookies!" the little girl protested.

"We'll get more later. Come on, now!"

Bruce moved without thinking, stepping into her path. "Please. Please, just... just tell me. Are they mine?"

Marian's eyes filled with tears, but her jaw was set. "Get out of my way, Bruce."

"I need to know! Marian, please, I need " His voice broke. "Six years. I've been looking for you for six years. I was wrong. I know I was wrong. But please, just tell me the truth. Are they mine?"

One of the boys tugged on Marian's hand. "Mommy, why is this man crying?"

Bruce hadn't even realized tears were running down his face. He wiped them roughly, never taking his eyes off Marian.

"Please," he whispered.

She stared at him for a long moment. He could see the war playing out on her face the urge to run versus something else. Finally, her shoulders sagged just slightly.

"Their names are Jonah, Joshua, and Janet," she said quietly, her voice devoid of emotion. "They're five years old. And yes, Bruce. They're yours."

The world tilted. He had to grip the chair harder to stay upright.

"I have... I have children? I have three " His breath came out in short gasps. "Oh my God. Oh my God, Marian, I have kids. I'm a father?"

"Biologically," she said coldly. "That's all you are. Now move."

"No, wait, please " He reached for her arm, but she jerked back like he'd burned her.

"Don't touch me! You have no right!"

The children were staring now, confused and frightened by the tension.

"Mommy?" the little girl Janet said in a small voice.

Marian immediately softened, kneeling down to her daughter's level. "It's okay, baby. Everything's fine. We're just going to go home now, okay?"

"But who is he?" Jonah asked, still staring at Bruce with open curiosity.

Marian hesitated. Bruce held his breath.

"Nobody," she finally said. "He's nobody important."

The words were like a punch to the gut.

"Marian, please, don't do this," Bruce begged. "I know I don't deserve anything from you, but please, just give me a chance to "

"A chance?" She stood up sharply, her eyes blazing now. "You want a chance? Where was my chance six years ago? Where was my chance when I told you the truth and you called me a liar?"

"I was wrong! I know I was wrong!"

"Yeah, well, congratulations on figuring that out six years too late!" She grabbed her children's hands. "Let's go, kids."

"Wait!" Bruce stepped in front of her again, desperation making him reckless. "Please, just... just give me five minutes. Five minutes to talk. That's all I'm asking."

"You had six years to find me, Bruce. Where were you?"

"I tried! God, I tried! I hired investigators, I searched everywhere "

"Not hard enough, clearly."

"Because you disappeared! You didn't want to be found!"

"I DIDN'T WANT MY CHILDREN TO KNOW THEIR FATHER THOUGHT THEY WERE BASTARDS!" she shouted, then immediately covered her mouth, glancing at the kids.

But they were already wide-eyed, picking up on words they probably didn't fully understand but knowing something was very wrong.

Marian's face crumpled. "Look what you made me do. Look what you..." She shook her head, tears now falling freely. "We're leaving. Don't follow us."

"Marian "

"I mean it, Bruce. Stay away from us. You gave up any right to them to us when you threw me out pregnant and alone."

She pushed past him, pulling her confused, frightened children with her.

Bruce stood frozen, watching them go. His children. His three beautiful children that he didn't know, who didn't know him, who looked at him like he was a stranger.

Because he was.

He was a stranger to his own kids.

"Wait!" he called out, his voice breaking. "Please, Marian, please, just... can I see them again? Can we talk? I'll do anything, please!"

She didn't turn around. Didn't even slow down.

He watched them disappear around a corner, and something inside him shattered.

He had children. Three of them. Beautiful, healthy children who had his eyes.

And they'd just walked out of his life before he'd even gotten to know their names properly.

Bruce collapsed onto the café chair, his head in his hands, and for the second time in six years, he broke down completely.

He'd spent six years searching for Marian, convinced he'd been wrong to send her away. And now that he'd finally found her, he'd discovered something infinitely worse than his mistake:

He was a father.

And his children didn't know him.

Didn't want him.

The woman he'd wronged so deeply would never forgive him.

And he had absolutely no idea how to fix any of it.

All he knew was that he couldn't let them disappear again.

He wouldn't survive it.