Chapter 4 - Four Names on a DNA Report
By eight o'clock the following morning, Elena's life had become a spectacle.
News vans crowded the street outside the flagship Little Nests center.
Photographers waited near her condominium.
Strangers had posted photographs of her children online.
Comment sections were filled with people debating whether Elena had “trapped” Alex, whether she had hidden his children for money, whether the quadruplets were really his, and how much a Vance heir might someday inherit.
Elena wanted to break every phone in the building.
Instead, she sat inside a conference room with her attorney, Melissa Grant, while the four children colored pictures at the far end of the room under the supervision of Elena's sister.
Sofia drew carefully inside the lines.
Mateo built a tower out of markers.
Lily colored an elephant purple.
Leo kept looking toward the glass doors.
“Are the camera people still outside?” he asked.
Elena forced a smile.
“They are.”
“Why?”
“Because adults can be very silly.”
Leo considered that.
“Are they silly about us?”
Elena's heart cracked.
Before she could answer, the conference room door opened.
Alex entered with his attorney.
All four children looked up.
He stopped.
Nothing in his life had prepared him for being in the same room with them.
On television they had seemed almost unreal.
Now Leo was chewing the inside of his cheek exactly the way Alex did when nervous.
Sofia had a tiny crease between her eyebrows.
Mateo watched him with suspicion.
And Lily stared at Alex as though she intended to interrogate him personally.
Elena stood.
“The children are leaving before we discuss anything.”
Alex nodded.
“Of course.”
Lily pointed at him.
“You're the television man.”
Everyone froze.
Alex crouched slightly.
“I guess I am.”
“You look like Leo.”
Leo frowned.
“No, he looks like me.”
For one impossible second, Elena nearly laughed.
Then reality returned.
Her sister gathered the children and led them toward another room.
As Leo passed Alex, he glanced up at him.
The dimple appeared.
Alex had to look away.
When the door closed, Melissa placed documents on the table.
“We're doing this cleanly,” she said. “No public statements involving the children without Elena's written approval. No unscheduled contact. No visits at their school or residence. No attempt to establish custody until paternity is legally confirmed.”
Alex's attorney began to speak.
Alex stopped him.
“Agreed.”
Elena studied him.
Melissa continued.
“DNA testing today.”
“Agreed.”
“And your mother stays away.”
Alex's expression darkened.
“Absolutely.”
Elena leaned forward.
“Did she leak the story?”
“I can't prove it.”
“But you think she did.”
“Yes.”
Melissa slid another paper across the table.
“Then prove it.”
Alex spent the next forty-eight hours doing exactly that.
His private security team traced contact between Beatrice's longtime public-relations adviser and the reporter who broke the story.
Alex confronted the adviser.
The man initially denied everything.
Then Alex showed him the phone records.
He admitted Beatrice had authorized “background guidance.”
Within hours, Alex terminated every Vance corporate contract with the PR firm.
Then he made a decision that stunned his own board.
He released a public statement.
Not through a lawyer.
Not through a spokesperson.
Under his own name.
Elena Rivas did not hide children from me.
Years ago, she attempted to notify me of her pregnancy through legal channels. I did not receive those communications.
More importantly, I left our marriage before knowing she was pregnant, and the reasons for that decision were mine.
Any attempt to portray Ms. Rivas as dishonest, manipulative, or opportunistic is false.
She raised four children without asking me for money, publicity, or assistance.
My priority now is protecting their privacy.
That statement changed the coverage overnight.
For the first time, the headlines began focusing on what Elena had accomplished.
Four babies.
A business built from nothing.
Five years without financial support from one of Boston's wealthiest families.
But Alex knew public sympathy did not make him a father.
Four days later, the DNA report arrived.
Probability of paternity: greater than 99.999%.
Four names were listed.
Sofia Elena Rivas.
Mateo James Rivas.
Lillian Rose Rivas.
Leon Alexander Rivas.
Alex stared at the last one.
Leon Alexander.
Elena had given one of their sons his name.
Not his surname.
But his name.
When he looked up, Elena was standing across the attorney's conference room.
“Alexander?”
She folded her arms.
“I was angry, not heartless.”
He couldn't speak.
“He was Baby D for six hours because I couldn't decide.”
A tear escaped before Alex could stop it.
Elena looked away.
“Don't make me regret telling you.”
“I won't.”
The first supervised visit happened the following Saturday.
Not at Alex's penthouse.
Not at the Vance estate.
At a public botanical garden Elena chose.
Alex arrived twenty minutes early carrying four expensive gift bags.
Elena took one look and shook her head.
“No.”
“What?”
“Take them back.”
“They're just gifts.”
“You don't know them.”
His expression fell.
Elena softened slightly.
“If you want them to like you, learn who they are.”
So Alex put the gifts back in his car.
For the next two hours, he learned.
Sofia loved insects but hated butterflies because she thought they were “too showy.”
Mateo could identify twelve kinds of construction vehicles.
Lily asked questions without waiting for answers.
Leo was obsessed with maps.
Alex listened.
He did not tell them who he was.
Elena had decided that conversation would come later.
To the children, he was simply Alex, an old friend of Mom's.
On the third visit, Leo asked why Alex had the same dimple.
On the fourth, Sofia noticed their eyes.
On the fifth, Lily announced, “I think you're related to us.”
Elena nearly choked on her coffee.
Alex smiled.
“You're pretty observant.”
“I know.”
Later that afternoon, Elena watched Alex help Mateo tie a shoelace.
Something dangerous moved inside her chest.
Not forgiveness.
Not yet.
But memory.
The man she had once loved was still somewhere beneath the selfish choices he had made.
That frightened her more than hating him.
Two weeks passed.
The media frenzy began to fade.
A temporary protective order prohibited Beatrice from approaching Elena or the children.
Alex started attending parenting sessions recommended by Melissa.
He learned the children's routines.
Allergies.
Favorite foods.
Bedtimes.
How Sofia needed the closet door closed.
How Mateo hated peas.
How Lily woke from nightmares after thunderstorms.
How Leo insisted somebody check underneath his bed twice.
Alex wrote everything down.
Then, on a Wednesday afternoon, Elena was presenting Little Nests' expansion plans to investors when her phone vibrated.
The children's after-school center.
She ignored the first call.
They called again.
Elena excused herself.
“Hello?”
A nervous voice answered.
“Ms. Rivas, we need you to remain calm.”
Her body went cold.
“What happened?”
“Your children were picked up twenty minutes ago.”
Elena gripped the table.
“No, they weren't.”
“Our staff received an updated emergency authorization.”
“I didn't send one.”
Silence.
Elena's heart began pounding.
“Who took them?”
“We're reviewing the security footage.”
Alex was in a board meeting across town when Elena called.
“They're gone.”
He stood so quickly his chair crashed backward.
“What do you mean?”
“Someone picked them up.”
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
Alex was already moving.
Then another call came through.
The childcare center had found the footage.
Alex and Elena watched it simultaneously from their phones.
Four children walked through a side entrance toward a black SUV.
A woman waited beside the open door.
Perfect silver-blonde hair.
Camel-colored coat.
Pearl earrings.
May you like
Beatrice Vance.
And just before the video ended, she looked directly into the security camera and smiled.
