Page 43 of Fake Wife for Dr. Secret Daddy

“I was coming to that,” the matron began, smiling. The kids kept their names because Mia had given them to the orphanage on the day she dropped them off.”

I nodded, eager to hear more. I stole a peek at Winnie, who seemed to struggle to pay attention. She was nuzzling Isla's neck, already activating that mother-daughter bond.

“Also, Luna was adopted. unfortunately, we found out that the woman who adopted Luna was arrested by the police at Gates Hospital car park in New York some months ago. When we reached out, we were informed by the police that she was arrested for locking up and leaving Luna alone in the parking lot. Thank goodness she was found by one of the doctors who proceeded to call child protective services and the police.”

The shock from the matron's words spreads through my system like a lightbulb. So, Luna was our child all along? Luna was ours?

I stare at Winnie, who has temporarily stopped nuzzling Isla's neck. The tears on her cheeks have entirely dried, but I am sure they will drop again any second. I squeezed her hand tightly as if telling her it was okay to cry and that everything would be fine.

“Blood is indeed thicker than water,” I hear myself pronounce, ignoring the pain that my feet were enduring in my shoes.

“Luna is our daughter, Winnie. She is ours. She is our own!” I am comforting her now as tears cascade down her cheeks—tears of joy, pain, and that bittersweet happy ending. I hug her, kissing her nose lightly, then using my thumb to flick the incoming tears.

“However, I suggest a DNA test be done before you both rush to conclusions,” the matron announces, breaking into our world.

I shake my head, smiling at her because, yes, I had forgotten she existed and was in the same room with us.

The joy emanating from the huge strides I took, I shook Matron's hands firmly, telling her I was grateful, but I had unfinished business at home.

Guiding my family out and through the doors of the orphanage home, I knew I only wanted to see one person.

My father.

Once I reached the house, I parked the car, letting my gaze settle on Winnie and Isla.

In my next life, I couldn't believe that happiness could exist in just a moment, but this was it, just staring at my family, what fate had scattered but had brought back together, the shards from a broken bowl brought together to make it whole.

I open the door for Winnie and my daughter before locking the car. Calling somebody I had just found hours ago, my daughter sounded strange. But in that strangeness was joy, and I wanted to dwell in it, no matter how weird it seemed.

At that moment, I wanted my priceless possessions for myself. I did not want to share them with the demon I call a father, and I didn't want my daughter calling him a grandfather.

I went into the house with Winnie and Isla.

“We're going to pack our bags and leave, Winnie. That is what is going to happen. We can't stay under the same roof with the man I call my father.”

I expected objections, but Winnie didn't say a word; she nodded, holding Isla.

My strides were filled with something bigger than joy. I gallop up the stairs, going straight on to pack up the boxes in my room, and then begin to pack Winnie’s things.

I am still packing when I hear those familiar footsteps behind me. Footsteps that I have known all my life. Footsteps that I had once worshipped on the ground on which they walked on. Ones I had once cherished. Those feet meant nothing to me now; the footsteps were worthless, just like the sand that followed the shoes.

“What are you doing, son? Where are you going with all these boxes?”

I refused to reply, focusing on the packing I was doing. If more than anything, I wanted to ignore him, I tried to pretend he no longer existed.

“Talk to me, Ted, and stop this nonsense this minute!”

I stood over him, my hand raised in anger, but I changed my mind as soon as my mother entered the room. Her expensive perfume seemed to calm the rage that was already wound up inside me.

“Ted? What is it?”

I stared disgustedly at the man before me in a heap, wondering how I had respected and wanted to be like such a devilish man for years.

“Never again,” I mutter, my hands clenching and unclenching in anger.

“Mum, this man you call your husband was the mastermind of Winnie losing our children. He has been the one behind it the whole time! Can you imagine that he sedated Winnie and had our babies shipped to the orphanage? This man you've been calling a husband for years did that. This person I've been calling father for years did that, playing with our intelligence.”

I am pleased by the terrified look on my mother's face. Yes, it was high time she knew her husband wasn't the man she used to know.

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