Chapter 4 The Weight of Secrets

Sean Anderson sat alone in his office for a very long time after the children left.

The paper with his name written on it sat on his desk. He kept looking at it, like it was going to change if he stared at it long enough. But it didn't change. The handwriting was the same. His name was still there.

Sean Anderson.

He had built his entire life on a lie.

Not a conscious lie, but a lie nonetheless. He had told himself—and everyone else—that he was a pure man. That he had never done anything wrong. That he had never been reckless or stupid or human.

He had built the Anderson Industries into an empire by being cold and careful and perfect.

But those children had looked at him with his own eyes and said: You are our father.

And his body had known it was true before his mind could deny it.

---

Thirty years earlier, Sean had been a different person.

He was still smart and still ambitious, but he was also young and lonely. He had recently taken over his father's company at only twenty-four years old. His father had died suddenly, and Sean had been forced to grow up overnight.

He had no time for friends. No time for fun. No time for love.

He worked until midnight every day. He lived alone in a big house that felt empty. He talked to no one about anything that mattered.

Then one night, at a business event, he had seen her.

A girl who didn't fit with all the other people there. She was wearing a dress that was too cheap and shoes that were uncomfortable. She was looking around like she had never seen rich people before.

She had been beautiful, but not in the way rich girls were beautiful. She was beautiful in a way that felt real.

He had talked to her for one hour. Just one hour.

They had gone to a quiet garden outside the building. They had talked about books and dreams and all the things Sean never talked about with anyone. She had laughed at his jokes. She had listened when he spoke.

For the first time in years, Sean had felt like a human being instead of a robot.

And then he had kissed her.

And then... he didn't remember the rest.

Actually, that wasn't true. He remembered all of it. But he had decided a long time ago not to remember it. He had pushed it so deep inside his mind that it had become like a dream. Like something that happened to someone else.

Because the next morning, that girl was gone.

She was no longer at the company where they had met. She didn't leave a number. She didn't leave a note. She just disappeared like she had never existed.

Sean had tried to find her. But he didn't even know her last name. He just knew her first name was something that started with an M.

After a few months, he had stopped looking. He had told himself it was just one night. It didn't matter. It was a moment of weakness, and weakness was not something the CEO of Anderson Industries could afford.

So he had forgotten. Or tried to forget. Or convinced himself that he had forgotten.

But now there were three children with his eyes and his face and his blood telling him that it had mattered very much indeed.

---

Sean didn't sleep that night.

He sat in his office and looked at photographs online. He searched for "Molly May" and found nothing. He searched for the May family and found them—a rich family with a daughter named Diana.

But there was something wrong. The articles from six years ago mentioned something about the May family. About a daughter. About a pregnancy scandal.

Then the articles stopped mentioning it. Like it had been erased. Like someone didn't want people to remember.

Sean made a phone call to an investigator. He gave her information. He told her to find everything about Molly May and about what had happened six years ago.

He didn't tell her why.

---

The next morning, Sean couldn't focus on work.

He had a meeting with investors. He didn't pay attention. He had calls from important people. He didn't take them.

His assistant, Margaret, was worried. "Are you okay, sir? You never miss meetings."

"I'm fine," Sean said. But he wasn't fine. For the first time in ten years, Sean Anderson was not in control.

He kept thinking about the girl in the garden. About the way she had looked at him like he was worth something. About the way she had laughed at his jokes.

He kept thinking about what he had done to her by forgetting.

What if she had gotten pregnant?

What if that's what had happened?

"No," Sean said out loud. "That's not possible."

"Sir?" Margaret looked at him with concern.

"Nothing. Never mind."

But it was very possible. It was more than possible. It was exactly what the children were telling him had happened.

And if it was true, then Sean had a five-year-old son and two five-year-old daughters.

He had a family.

And he had forgotten them all.

---

By that evening, the investigator called.

Sean took the call in his private office with the door locked.

"Mr. Anderson, I have information," the investigator said. "Molly May was the biological daughter of Walter May. She was switched at birth and grew up in a village outside the city. Six years ago, she was brought back to the May family. Three months later, it was announced that she was pregnant. The father was unknown."

Sean's hands were shaking.

"What happened to her?" he asked.

"She was disowned and left the country. She went to Fomanesia. I found records of three births six years ago. Two boys and one girl. The birth certificates list the father as unknown."

The investigator paused.

"However, Mr. Anderson, I should tell you that she returned to Northfolk three days ago. She has accepted a position as a house cleaner in the business district. She's living in a small apartment with the three children. She's working very hard to support them."

Sean hung up the phone.

She had come back. Molly May had come back to Northfolk. Six years after he had forgotten her, after he had lived like she never existed, she had come back.

And she was working three jobs to raise his children.

That night, Sean did something he had never done before. He cried.

And he realized that the cold, perfect life he had built was nothing but an illusion.

The children were coming b

ack. He could feel it.

They would come back because they were his, and they deserved answers.

But he wasn't ready to give them.