The nurse lied to me!
All three of my children survived, not just one. They are all alive. I didn’t fail. Langston overhearing that my children died was a lie. All of it.
The pain I’ve carried with me since that day was a lie.
I have three kids.
None of them are mine.
I didn’t fail them that day, but I have now.
Atlas was taken by Maxwell.
Rose was taken
by Phoenix.
Declan was taken by Corbin.
Three kids—all taken.
All because I didn’t do something sooner. After seeing Atlas myself, I was sure that Corbin and Waylon claiming they had my child was a lie. They had to be bluffing. I knew the second I saw Atlas that he was mine.
Even though I saw the similarities between Rose and me when I saw her, I convinced myself that she was Langston’s.
If I hadn’t been so afraid, then maybe I could have prevented this. I could have done more to stop it.
I stare at Langston, who is still processing everything. He’s basically been frozen in place, his eyes wide, his lips parted, his hair wild since he found out the truth. Rose isn’t his child. I have three kids all gone.
I can’t imagine how he’s processing this.
For a moment, I thought he could have been the one telling me my children died the day they were born. I thought he hated me that much and wanted to punish me.
But despite all the lies we’ve told each other over the years, he wouldn’t tell me that. When he realized Rose wasn’t biologically his—it shocked him, hurt him. There is no hiding or faking the kind of pain that comes with losing a child.
If it wasn’t Langston who was behind pretending my children died and hiding them from me, then who was it?
It seems important to find out.
But right now, I have more important things to worry about. I need to ensure Langston hasn’t gone into shock and figure out a way to protect all three of my kids that are with three separate monsters. I have no idea if Langston is still willing to do this with me or not. Now that he realizes he actually has no biological children, he could just run—file for divorce and live his life. He has no loyalty to me.
In some ways, it might be better if he did. The longer he stays with me, the higher the possibility of him falling in love with me. Other than getting my children back, the next most important thing to me is ensuring he doesn’t fall for me.
But what if he already has?
“Langston?” I speak tentatively.
He runs his hand through his hair and immediately snaps back out of his trance.
“Talk to me. What’s going through your head?” I ask.
My heart skips waiting for his answer. Somehow this is more important than all the other words he’s given me.
“We have three kids we have to get back.”
There’s that word again—we. We have three kids. He speaks about them as if they are his. I guess even though they are all biologically mine, he has a much closer relationship with at least two of them. They call him father. It’s clear in his eyes and the words he uses that he won’t let that change any time soon.
He grabs my neck and yanks me into his chest until I’m consumed with his smell—pine, sweat, sex—that’s him. For a second, I can breathe again. Would this have happened if, instead of walking away from my hospital room, he walked toward me? Would I have felt like I could breathe again? Like I could face another second of a day? Would I have kept enough of my heart to keep living instead of turning in a shell?