Chapter 2 - The Diagnosis That Never ExistedDarwin did not remember leaving the restaurant.
The wineglass stopped halfway to his mouth.
Across the table, his second wife, Phoebe, went pale.
Darwin barely noticed.
He was staring at Sydney Holston.
For six years, he had trained himself not to think about her.
Not about the quiet way she used to laugh when she was tired.
Not about the yellow mug she always drank coffee from.
Not about the last night of their marriage, when she sat on the edge of their bed and asked him one final question.
“Would you still leave if you knew there was a chance?”
He had answered too quickly.
“I want to be a father, Sydney. I can’t spend the rest of my life waiting for something that may never happen.”
She had looked at him for several seconds.
Then she nodded.
No screaming.
No begging.
No dramatic scene.
She simply removed her wedding ring and placed it on the dresser.
Three months later, the divorce was final.
Now Sydney stood fifteen feet away.
And beside her were two children.
A boy with dark brown hair and a green dinosaur backpack.
A girl with soft chestnut curls holding a stuffed rabbit under one arm.
Twins.
About five years old.
Darwin’s pulse began to hammer.
“Phoebe.”
His wife didn’t answer.
He looked at her.
Phoebe was staring not at Sydney’s face, but at the leather folder tucked beneath Sydney’s arm.
A medical clinic logo was printed on the corner.
Darwin knew that logo.
St. Matthew’s Reproductive Medicine Center.
The same clinic where Sydney had undergone fertility testing years ago.
“Why is she carrying a file from St. Matthew’s?” he whispered.
Phoebe tightened her fingers around her wineglass.
“Darwin…”
Sydney finally saw them.
She stopped.
The little girl looked up.
“Mommy?”
Sydney’s expression changed for half a second.
Not fear.
Not guilt.
Something colder.
Recognition.
She took both children’s hands.
Darwin stood so quickly his chair scraped across the floor.
The sound turned several heads.
“Sydney.”
She didn’t move.
Phoebe reached for his wrist.
“Sit down.”
He pulled away.
“Sydney.”
This time, the boy turned.
Darwin felt something inside him twist.
The child had his eyes.
Not merely the same color.
The same slight downward angle at the outer corners.
The same heavy eyebrows Darwin had hated in childhood.
The boy frowned.
Darwin’s father used to make that exact expression.
His stomach dropped.
“No,” he whispered.
Sydney stepped between him and the children.
“Darwin, don’t.”
“What is this?”
People nearby were beginning to stare.
“I’m having dinner with my children.”
“Your children?”
“Yes.”
His voice broke.
“How old are they?”
Sydney’s jaw tightened.
“That’s none of your business.”
“How old?”
The little girl hugged her rabbit.
Sydney glanced down at her.
“Sweetheart, why don’t you and Noah go with Aunt Lena? She’s right behind us.”
A woman approaching from the entrance immediately understood.
“Come on, guys. Let’s go see the dessert case.”
The children hesitated.
Sydney smiled.
“I’ll be there in one minute.”
When they were gone, Darwin turned back to her.
“How old are they?”
Sydney looked him directly in the eyes.
“Five.”
The restaurant disappeared.
Six years since the divorce.
Five-year-old twins.
Darwin calculated without wanting to.
The numbers landed like a punch.
Phoebe stood.
“Sydney, maybe this isn’t the place.”
Sydney’s gaze shifted toward her.
Something passed between the two women.
Darwin saw it.
He stepped back.
“You two know each other.”
Neither answered.
“Sydney?”
Phoebe whispered, “Darwin, please.”
He turned on her.
“What do you know?”
Phoebe’s face collapsed.
That was when Darwin realized his wife was frightened.
Not surprised.
Frightened.
Sydney tightened her grip around the medical folder.
Darwin pointed toward it.
“What’s in there?”
“Nothing that belongs to you.”
“You went to St. Matthew’s.”
“Yes.”
“After our divorce?”
Sydney laughed once, without humor.
“Before it.”
The blood drained from his face.
“That’s impossible.”
“No,” Phoebe whispered.
Darwin turned.
His wife was crying now.
He stared at her.
“Phoebe?”
She closed her eyes.
When she opened them again, she looked like someone standing at the edge of a cliff.
“There’s something about her medical records,” she said quietly, “you were never supposed to know.”
Darwin stopped breathing.
Sydney’s face hardened.
“Don’t.”
But Phoebe continued.
“Your first wife was never infertile, Darwin.”
Silence.
Even Sydney looked stunned.
Darwin stared at Phoebe.
“What?”
Phoebe’s lips trembled.
“She was never infertile.”
Darwin shook his head.
“I saw the diagnosis.”
“No.”
“I sat in that doctor’s office.”
“You saw what someone wanted you to see.”
Sydney turned away.
Darwin reached for the back of a chair to steady himself.
“Who?”
Phoebe looked toward Sydney.
Then back at her husband.
May you like
And whispered the sentence that would destroy the Worthington family before the night was over.
“Your mother.”
Related Stories
