THE $150 MILLION DIVORCE: THE BILLIONAIRE WHO ABANDONED HIS TWINS

The bell above the flower shop door rang as I stepped inside.

The scent of roses, lilies, and fresh eucalyptus filled the small room. It was warm, peaceful, and completely unlike the cold marble offices and luxury penthouses I had spent my life building.

Claire stood behind the counter, arranging a bouquet.

She looked up.

For one second, neither of us moved.

Then the color drained from her face.

"Alexander."

My name sounded different coming from her now. Not affectionate. Not angry.

Just tired.

"Claire."

I glanced toward the two children playing on a rug near the window.

The little girl was stacking wooden blocks. Her brother was trying to take them apart.

Both had dark hair.

Both had my eyes.

"How old are they?" I asked.

Claire immediately stepped between me and the children.

"That's none of your business."

My throat tightened.

"They're mine, aren't they?"

Her expression hardened.

"You lost the right to ask me that three years ago."

The little boy looked up.

"Mommy?"

Claire turned instantly, her face softening.

"It's okay, sweetheart. Keep playing."

I couldn't stop staring at him.

He had a tiny crease between his eyebrows, exactly like the one I saw in the mirror every morning. Even the way he tilted his head reminded me of myself.

"What's his name?"

"Oliver."

"And her?"

"Emma."

I swallowed.

"Beautiful names."

"They were chosen without your help."

The words struck harder than I expected.

I stepped closer.

"Claire, I didn't know."

She gave a short, humorless laugh.

"You didn't want to know."

"I would have come back."

"No. You would have come back when it became convenient for you."

"That's not fair."

"Fair?" Her voice rose. "You stood in our home, handed me divorce papers, and told me you had deliberately prevented me from having the one thing I wanted most. I was pregnant, Alexander. I was carrying your children. And you looked me in the eyes and told me you never wanted to be tied to me."

My knees almost weakened.

"You knew?"

"I knew that night."

"Then why didn't you tell me?"

Claire stared at me as if she couldn't believe the question.

"I tried."

The shop suddenly seemed unbearably quiet.

She continued, her voice trembling.

"I had the ultrasound in my purse. I had planned to tell you over dinner. I even bought a tiny pair of shoes. I thought you'd be surprised. Maybe scared at first, but happy eventually."

She looked toward the children.

"Then I saw you with Sophia."

I remembered the sidewalk.

Sophia's coat.

My hand brushing her hair.

"Claire, Sophia and I—"

"Don't."

She held up one hand.

"I don't want to hear another explanation designed to make you feel better."

I lowered my voice.

"Can I at least meet them?"

"No."

"They're my children."

"They're children who have never needed a stranger to walk into their lives and announce that he owns half their DNA."

Before I could answer, Emma dropped her blocks.

One rolled beneath my shoe.

She toddled toward me.

I froze.

She looked up at my face, then at the photograph still clutched in my hand.

"Mommy," she whispered, "that man looks like Ollie."

Claire hurried forward.

"Emma, come here."

But the little girl didn't move.

She studied me with innocent curiosity.

"Are you a friend?"

I crouched slowly.

"I hope I can be."

She smiled, revealing a tiny gap between her front teeth.

Then Oliver ran over and grabbed her hand.

"Come on, Emma. Mr. Daniel said we shouldn't talk to strangers."

Mr. Daniel.

A man named Daniel.

I looked at Claire.

"Who's Daniel?"

Before she could answer, the shop door opened again.

A tall man in his early thirties entered carrying two paper bags.

"Sorry I'm late. The twins wanted—"

He stopped when he saw me.

His expression changed immediately.

"Alexander Moretti."

I stood.

"Daniel?"

He placed the bags on the counter and moved beside Claire.

Not in front of her.

Beside her.

With the ease of someone who had earned that position.

"Claire," he said quietly, "do you want me to take the children upstairs?"

She nodded.

Daniel gathered the twins.

"Come on, monsters. I brought your favorite cookies."

Oliver cheered.

Emma waved at me.

"Bye, friend!"

The sound of that innocent goodbye nearly broke me.

When they disappeared through the back door, I turned to Daniel.

"How long have you known them?"

"Long enough."

"Are you their father?"

His jaw tightened.

"No. But I've been there for every birthday, every fever, every nightmare, and every morning Claire was too exhausted to get out of bed."

I felt something ugly rise inside my chest.

"You're living with my family?"

Daniel stepped closer.

"Be very careful how you use that word."

Claire closed her eyes.

"Daniel, please."

He looked at me.

"Those children don't know you. They don't owe you anything. And Claire doesn't owe you another chance."

I turned toward my former wife.

"I want a DNA test."

Her face became unreadable.

"You want proof?"

"I need to know."

She nodded slowly.

"Fine. But understand something, Alexander. A DNA test can tell you whether you're their biological father. It cannot tell you how to become their father."

She walked around the counter and opened the front door.

"Now leave."

I wanted to argue.

I wanted to demand answers.

Instead, I stepped onto the sidewalk.

Just before the door closed, Claire spoke again.

"And Alexander?"

I turned.

"Don't bring Sophia here."

The door shut.

I stood outside for several minutes, staring at my reflection in the glass.

Then my phone rang.