Chapter 11
James
“Should we proceed to the office Sir?” I hear my driver ask.
I don’t respond. Instead, I continued to look out the window,
I hoped for a happy future with you, me and this child inside of me..
The school outside is buzzing with activity. Kids running, groups of parents talking, cars coming in and out. But I had my eyes set on one particular family.
open the trunk. My sights shift to the woman who was once the center of my life,
Three kids come out from the backseat of a silver sedan and quickly op coming out from the driver’s seat to help out the kids.
No child deserves to grow up without a father….
After reading the letter a week ago, I was dumbstruck. It was like the very foundation to which my whole life was built on was shattered. I was a father?
Immediately after reading the letter, I called a private investigator to give me information about Catherine. That child cannot be mine. It must be the child of one of the many men she fucked.
James, I love you with all of my heart.
Iclenched my hands in frustration and confusion. But what if it is my child?
Five days later, I had in my hands the PI’s report.
Archt. Catherine Smith, MBA… 33 years old…
Catherine is a smart woman who finished high school 2 years early. She was then able to pursue her dream career, despite financial difficulties, through a private scholarship program. So quite frankly, I was not surprised that she acquired an MBA I skip the other details of Catherine and proceed to those concerning the child.
Arab Xavier Smith… Albin Yves Smith… Adela Zeva Smith.
What?
I reread the section with the name of my supposed child. Three names?
Arab Xavier Albin Yves–Adela Zeva… Triplets?
A feeling resembling pride fills my heart. I am a father of triplets. I shake my head in frustration. No no these children are not mine.
Included in the PI’s report was a photo of Catherine with the kids having a picnic. I stare at the photo and unconsciously notice some of the children’s trait that are similar to mine. The same blonde hair. The shade of ocean blue eyes. But what if they are my kids?
I continue to stare at the photo, focusing on the two boys who reminded me of my younger self. Then you just missed 8 years of their life you *sshole. Dread suddenly soaks me to my core 8 years. I shake my head and run my hand through my hair. No no no. Not my kids. I repeatedly say to remove the
doute and dread laide.
r?” My driver says, shaling me out of my thoughts.
Looking out the window, I see Catherine talking with a man by her car and none of the kids in sight. An unwelcome pang of jealousy rushes through me. I clerach my lists in frustration
Why? Even after all these years?
Catherine suddenly starts to look around. She may look calm, but I know her well enough to be able to tell that she was particky.
“Sir, I’m really sorry last you have a meeting in 30 malutes.” My driver says a little louder.
I shake my head and bury all these notions Inside of me in preparation for a long day full of meetings. Get your sh*t together James. “Let’s prooved. ”
