PART 2: THE SECRET IN THE OLD BACKPACK
The name "Emma" echoed through the penthouse office like a lightning strike shattering the reinforced glass walls I had spent five years building.
I stared intently at the faded photo inside the silver locket. In the picture, Emma was laughing, her smile radiant under the afternoon sun in Central Park, while the 33-year-old version of me looked at her with all the infatuation a man could possess. That was the summer before I decided that love was a luxury hindering a CEO's progress. I had broken up with her via a cold email, exchanging our relationship for a $50 million investment from a major venture capital fund, and convinced myself she would be fine without me.
But I never knew she was pregnant. I never knew I had twin sons.
"Mister... I mean, Daddy?" Liam called out softly, his ice-blue eyes looking up at me, filled with scrutiny and a hint of fear. "Mommy said Daddy works in a very tall building. Mommy said if anything happened, we had to give this to Daddy."
I dropped to one knee on the polished black marble floor, ignoring the creasing of my expensive, custom-tailored suit trousers. I took the silver locket from Liam’s small, trembling hand. My fingers brushed against his cool skin. The biological connection was so powerful it sent a wave of numbness washing down my spine.
"Lucas, Liam," I tried to keep my voice from shaking, though my chest felt suffocatingly tight. "Where is your mother... right now? Who brought you to this building?"
Lucas, the quieter child, suddenly dropped his pancake spoon. He reached for the worn, military-green canvas backpack, clutching it tightly to his chest as if it were the only treasure left in the world.
"A nice driver uncle," Lucas muttered, his voice catching. "He brought us into the elevator. He said Mommy is in a very far place, where phones have no signal. He told us to be good and sit here to wait for Daddy."
I turned to Claire, who was still standing frozen at the doorway, her face pale with shock.
"Claire, have security pull the surveillance footage from the ground floor lobby from 4:00 AM until now immediately," I commanded, the razor-sharp tone of a CEO returning, despite my racing heart. "I want to know exactly who walked these two children in. Find the license plate of any taxi or private vehicle that stopped in front of the lobby during that window."
"Yes, Mr. Miller. I'll do it right away," Claire snapped out of her daze and hurried off.
I turned back to the two boys. They had finished eating. Lucas was using his finger to push the remaining blueberries on his plate into a perfectly straight line. That action was identical to my own habit whenever I felt stressed during board meetings. This haunting resemblance was undeniable DNA proof.
"Lucas, can Daddy borrow the backpack for a moment?" I asked as gently as I could.
The boy stared at me for a long time, his large round eyes hesitating, before slowly releasing his grip. I unzipped the old backpack. Inside, there were no expensive toys, just a few sets of children's clothes, neatly folded but frayed at the hems, two small worn-out teddy bears, an old plastic baby bottle, and a thick yellow envelope resting at the bottom.
I pulled out the envelope. Written on the outside in Emma’s familiar, delicate handwriting were three words: For Jason.
I stood up and walked toward my desk, turning my back to the children so they wouldn't see the first tears in fifteen years threatening to spill from my eyes. I tore the envelope open. Inside was a thick stack of medical records and a three-page handwritten letter.
"Jason,
If you are reading this, it means I have lost control of my life, or I am no longer in this world. I am sorry for hiding the existence of Lucas and Liam from you. When you left five years ago, I discovered I was pregnant with twins just two weeks later. I intended to tell you, but seeing you on television, radiant and successful with Miller Meridian, I understood that your world had no room for the three of us.
I raised them on my own. They are wonderful children, Jason. They are smart, resilient, and carry so many of your traits. But life is unfair. Six months ago, I was diagnosed with terminal cancer. I used all my savings for treatment, but the doctors said I don't have much time left.
Today, as the pain begins to take my consciousness away, I know I must make the only selfish decision of my life: to return them to their father. I don't want them to end up in an orphanage. You can hate me, Jason, but please do not hate our children. They are innocent. This backpack contains everything I can leave them. Their birth certificates are behind the medical records. Your name is in the 'Father' box.
Please take care of them, Jason. Please.
Emma."
The paper in my hand shook violently. A hot tear fell, blurring the word "Emma" at the bottom of the page. I felt a cold chill run down my spine, which then turned into a raging fire of anger and regret consuming my soul. I was wealthy, I stood at the pinnacle of Manhattan, I had hundreds of millions of dollars in my accounts, yet I had let the woman I once loved wither away in poverty and solitude, while my children had to wander the streets to find their father.
Just then, Claire knocked and entered, her face deathly pale.
"Mr. Miller... Security checked the cameras. The man who brought the children here was an Uber driver. We contacted him. He said... he was hired by a woman to pick up the two kids from an apartment in Queens at 4:00 AM. But..." Claire hesitated, glancing at the boys before lowering her voice. "He said when he arrived to pick them up, the woman was lying on the bed, her breathing very weak. She paid him $500 in cash to ensure the children were delivered directly to your office. Right after the car pulled away, he saw an ambulance rushing into the apartment complex."
My heart seemed to stop beating. I grabbed the phone on the desk.
"Claire, cancel all meetings today. Call the largest hospital in the Queens area immediately. Search for a patient named Emma Vance admitted in an emergency this morning!" I shouted, completely losing my usual composure.
The two children startled and looked at me. Liam stood up, walked to my side, and tugged at the fabric of my suit jacket.
"Daddy... is Mommy very sick?" the boy asked, tears beginning to roll down his freckled cheeks. "Mommy said she was going to take a long sleep... but I saw Mommy crying a lot."
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I dropped to my knees, pulling both children tightly into my arms. The scent of milk, childhood, and road dust mingled together. For the first time in my life, I realized that the financial world, the numbers, the multi-million dollar mergers and acquisitions I had worshipped for so long... were absolute garbage compared to the embrace of these two tiny lives.
"Daddy will find Mommy," I whispered into their ears, my voice resolute. "Daddy promises. We are going to bring Mommy home."
