children, his face lost its color.
He looked at Noah.
Then Ethan.
Then Sophia.
Finally, Olivia.
Four sets of familiar gray eyes looked back at him.
His fingers tightened around the ring box.
The woman beside him slowly turned toward the children.
She studied their faces.
Then she looked at Daniel.
Her smile disappeared.
“Daniel,” she whispered, “who are those children?”
NEXT PAGE
He opened his mouth.
No words came out.
I stopped several feet in front of him.
For the first time in eight years, I was standing face-to-face with the man who had insisted our children would never become his responsibility.
I didn’t raise my voice.
I didn’t argue.
I simply looked at him and said,
“Merry Christmas, Daniel.”
He stared at me.
Then at the four children holding my hands.
And just when I thought the silence couldn’t become any heavier, Noah stepped forward.
He tilted his
