His voice dropped. “What things?”
“They know about the scar on your right side from the accident. They know about the little star-shaped birthmark on your left shoulder. One of them said his mama told him you have it.”
Alex stood so quickly his chair rolled backward and struck the wall.
“Where are they?”
“Main lobby.”
The elevator ride down lasted forty seconds. It felt like crossing a lifetime.
Impossible, he told himself. It is impossible.
He had been reckless in his twenties, but never careless. Then came the accident, and after that, certainty. The medical records were locked in his private files. No one outside his family and doctors knew the full truth.
Yet when the elevator doors opened, he saw them immediately.
Two boys sat side by side on the white leather bench beneath the Sterling Industries logo. Same dark hair. Same navy jackets. Same small sneakers swinging above the marble floor.
And the same eyes.
His eyes.
Clear blue. Watchful. Too old for their little faces, but bright with hope.
One boy clutched a wrinkled envelope. The other had his hand wrapped protectively around a small backpack strap.
The entire lobby had fallen silent. Receptionists stared. Security guards looked uneasy. Employees hovered near turnstiles, pretending not to watch.
Then the boys saw Alex.
Their faces lit up like sunrise.
“Daddy!”
They ran.
