PART 1

By that afternoon, every detail of my engagement announcement had been planned.

My black suit had been tailored in Manhattan. My grandfather’s cuff links were fastened beneath a perfectly pressed white shirt. In my pocket was an engagement ring selected with the approval of my mother, my attorneys, and almost everyone who had an opinion about my future.

By seven that evening, I was supposed to propose to Serena Vance at my family’s private conservatory overlooking Central Park.

It was supposed to be the beginning of the life everyone had designed for me.

The only problem was that I didn’t love Serena.

The engagement was business disguised as romance.

Then, a few hours before the announcement, I walked into the men’s bathroom of the restaurant.

Four little boys were standing at the sinks.

They wore matching navy uniforms and looked no older than six.

At first, I barely paid attention.

Then one of them pushed his wet hair away from his forehead.

The other three immediately did the same.

I froze.

Each boy brushed his fingers from his forehead toward the crown of his head, gave a tiny shake, and then touched the back of his neck with his left hand.

I knew that movement.

I had done it my entire life.

My father used to laugh whenever he saw me do it.

“That’s how you know a Mercer man is nervous.”

I stared at the boys through the mirror.

One of them noticed.

“Mister, why are you copying us?”

“I’m not.”

The four boys exchanged glances.

Then all of us looked at our reflections.

The same gray-blue eyes.

The same sharp jawline.

The same small dimple in the left cheek.

I felt my heartbeat accelerate.

“I’ve always done that,” I whispered.

The boys smiled.

“So have we.”

The most confident one stepped forward and held out his hand.

“I’m Leo.”

He pointed toward the others.

“That’s Liam, Luke, and Logan.”

I barely heard him.

“We’re quadruplets,” he added.

My mouth went dry.

“Where’s your mother?”

Leo’s expression changed.

“She works here.”

He hesitated.

“She’s arguing with the manager because we need somewhere to sleep tonight.”

Something about the way he said it made me follow them out of the bathroom.

As soon as we entered the restaurant, I saw her.

Elena.

She was standing near the service area in a black server’s apron while a manager spoke to her in a low, impatient voice.

“Employees aren’t allowed to sleep in the storage room.”

“My boys only need somewhere safe until morning,” she pleaded.

“That’s not my problem.”

Then Elena looked up.

Our eyes met.

Everything around me seemed to disappear.

I recognized the tiny scar above her eyebrow.

Those unmistakable green eyes.

The woman I had once loved more deeply than anyone in my life.

The woman my mother had told me abandoned me six years ago.

“Elena…”

Her face immediately went pale.

She looked at the boys.

“Boys, come with me.”

She moved toward the exit.

I followed.

Outside, the February wind cut through my coat.

Two worn duffel bags sat on the sidewalk beside the children.

That was when I understood just how little they had.

I pulled the key card to my empty Tribeca apartment from my wallet.

“Take this.”

Elena stared at it.

“No.”

“No questions tonight,” I said. “Just take the boys somewhere warm.”

She hesitated.

Leo quietly tugged at her sleeve.

“Mom, I’m tired.”

Her expression softened.

After a few seconds, she accepted the key card.

But before she got into my SUV, she turned toward me.

“You don’t get to disappear for six years and suddenly decide you’re their father.”

Her words hit harder than I expected.

I looked through the window at the four boys.

Four faces that looked impossibly familiar.

“I’m not deciding anything,” I said quietly.

“I’m trying to understand why they have my face.”

Elena didn’t answer.

She simply got into the vehicle with the boys.

I stood on the sidewalk watching them leave.

For the first time that day, I forgot about Serena.

I forgot about the engagement.

I forgot about the plans my family had made for me.

At 4:18 p.m., I called my assistant.

“Cancel tonight.”

There was a pause.

“Your engagement announcement?”

“Yes.”

“Your mother is already welcoming guests.”

“I don’t care.”

I ended the call.

Then I stood there with one question running through my mind.

Were those four boys really mine?

And if they were, why had I never been told they existed?

Six years ago, I had believed Elena simply walked out of my life.

Now I was beginning to wonder whether someone had made sure I believed exactly that.