“The courier just delivered the sealed envelope,” Marcus said.

“I have it on my desk.”

My heart hammered against my ribs.

“Open it,” I said.

“I should wait until you get here,” Marcus said.

“Open it now, Marcus,” I insisted.

I ran a red light, my tires gripping the wet asphalt.

The black sedan was still behind me, keeping a steady distance.

I could hear the sound of paper ripping over the phone line.

Marcus was quiet for a long moment.

I could hear his heavy breathing.

“Marcus?” I called out.

“Adrian,” he said, his voice barely a whisper.

“It is ninety-nine point nine percent.”

“They are yours.”

A sudden wave of warmth washed over me, despite the cold rain.

Noah and Lila were my children.

The lie that had defined my entire adult life was finally shattered.

My mother had stolen eight years of their lives from me.

And Celeste wanted me to keep pretending none of it existed.

“Adrian?” Marcus asked. “Are you there?”

“I am here,” I said.

“What do you want to do?”

“I am coming to get the papers,” I said.