Chapter 4 - THE BOY WHO HAD EVERYTHING EXCEPT THE TRUTH
Lucas Moretti was seven years old.
He had dark hair, a mischievous smile, and a room filled with toys.
Vincent had attended his first steps.
His first birthday.
His first day of school.
Every milestone he'd missed with Emily.
But Lucas's life wasn't as perfect as it appeared.
After the ceremony, Sophia sat beside Vincent in their penthouse.
“You embarrassed me.”
Vincent looked up.
“What?”
“Standing like that. Staring at Claire's daughter.”
Vincent's expression hardened.
“Emily.”
Sophia frowned.
“What?”
“Her name is Emily.”
Sophia looked away.
“I know her name.”
Vincent stood.
“Then use it.”
She stared at him.
For years, Vincent had avoided discussing Claire.
Whenever Sophia mentioned his former wife, he changed the subject.
Now he was defending her daughter.
Sophia felt something cold move through her.
“Vincent, you have a family.”
He looked at her.
“I have two children.”
She laughed bitterly.
“You've never acted like it.”
The words struck him.
Because they were true.
Upstairs, Lucas sat on the carpet building a model airplane.
He'd heard the argument.
He didn't understand all of it.
But he understood one thing.
There was a girl named Emily.
And his father had called her his daughter.
Lucas looked at the airplane.
Then toward the door.
He had always wanted a sister.
But something about the way his parents were arguing made him afraid to ask.
Vincent entered the room.
Lucas looked up.
“Dad?”
“Yes, buddy?”
“Do I have a sister?”
Vincent stopped.
Then sat beside him.
“Yes.”
Lucas's eyes widened.
“Really?”
Vincent nodded.
“Her name is Emily.”
“Why haven't I met her?”
Vincent looked at his son.
For the first time, he couldn't find an answer that made him sound like a good father.
“Because I made a mistake.”
Lucas frowned.
“Can you fix it?”
Vincent looked down.
“I don't know.”
That night, Vincent entered his study and opened a drawer.
Inside was a photograph.
Claire on their wedding day.
Smiling.
Trusting.
Happy.
He had kept it for seven years.
Not because he deserved the memory.
But because he had never been able to throw it away.
He stared at her face.
May you like
Then whispered:
“What have I done?”
