Harry beamed at Josh and Andrew, laughing in the pediatrician’s office—his 12-year-old twins, his joy.
“Mr. Campbell, a private word?” Dr. Dennison said, ushering the boys out. Harry’s gut tightened.
Josh’s anemia led to tests, even Harry’s blood. Andrew was healthy, but tension lingered.
“What’s Josh’s treatment?” Harry asked, edgy. “Supplements,” the doctor said, “but there’s another issue.”
Harry sighed—relief, fleeting. “Adopted?” the doctor asked, jolting him.
“No, they’re mine,” Harry insisted, firm. “Your blood doesn’t match,” Dr. Dennison countered.
“Blood types vary,” Harry argued. “They do,” the doctor said, “but DNA says they’re your half-siblings.”
Half-siblings? Harry snatched the results—his father’s sons? Impossible.
He’d raised them 12 years. Nancy was expecting when he brought her home—how?
Home, the boys ran to “Grandpa” Robert. Harry’s fury brewed, barely contained.
He sent them off to a friend’s, then snapped, “Nancy, my dad?”
She blanched. “It’s not what it seems,” Robert said, but Harry bellowed, “DNA begs to differ!”
Nancy recalled Vegas—a dance, a man named Robert, a night that spiraled.
They woke together, parted casually. Weeks later, pregnant, she turned to Anna.
“No way to find him?” Anna pressed. “Gone,” Nancy said, lost.
Harry met her at a bar soon after, charming her. Anna schemed, “He’ll never guess.”
Nancy resisted—then didn’t. Harry’s proposal came fast, a dream come true.
At his parents’, Robert opened the door—her Vegas fling. Panic hit.
“They’re Harry’s,” she swore to Robert, sealing their secret. Until now.
“Vegas?” Harry asked. Nancy nodded. “You knew?” he raged.
“Yes,” she admitted. “You used me!” he shouted. “Not my kids!”
“I believed her,” Robert said, but Nancy spat, “You knew!”
Their shouts clashed, and Harry saw it—the boys’ brown eyes, like Robert’s.
“They won’t find out!” Nancy cried, but Josh’s voice cut through, “Grandpa’s our dad?”
The twins stared, betrayed. Andrew’s “Dad?” shattered Harry, who could only whisper, “Sorry.”
