He Walked Away From His Billionaire Party on New Year’s Eve — Then Found the Woman He Lost Raising the Twins He Never Knew Existed.

PART 3

The following afternoon, he stood outside Claire’s Park Slope brownstone carrying a bag filled with imported wooden toys, designer clothes, and two stuffed animals handmade in France.

Claire opened the door before he knocked.

“You’ve been standing there for nine minutes.”

“I was preparing.”

“For toddlers?”

“For meeting my children.”

Her expression softened for half a second.

Then she saw the enormous bag.

“What’s that?”

“A few things.”

“Miles, they don’t need a few things. They need you to sit on the floor and play with blocks without checking your phone.”

He left the bag by the door.

The apartment was small, warm, and filled with evidence of a life he had missed. Photographs covered one wall. Claire pregnant. Claire holding two newborns. The twins in tiny birthday hats. Julian taking his first steps while Ivy clapped.

Miles stopped before a framed hospital photograph.

Claire sat in a wheelchair, exhausted and smiling, with one infant in each arm.

“You almost died,” he said.

She looked toward the picture.

“There were complications.”

“What complications?”

“Severe bleeding. Julian spent eight days in intensive care.”

Miles felt sick.

“Why didn’t anyone call me?”

“I told my mother not to.”

“You could have died.”

“But I didn’t.”

“And he could have died.”

“But he didn’t.”

The calmness in her voice could not hide the pain underneath.

A cry came from the bedroom.

Then another.

Claire walked down the hall. Miles followed.

The nursery barely held two cribs, a changing table, and a rocking chair. Ivy stood immediately, reaching for Claire.

Julian saw Miles and screamed.

The sound tore through him.

“He doesn’t like strangers,” Claire explained.

Miles slowly knelt beside the crib.

“Hello, Julian.”

The boy pressed himself into the far corner.

“I know I’m new,” Miles said. “I’d be afraid of me too.”

Claire gave him a surprised look.

Miles did not reach into the crib. He remained on the floor, speaking quietly.

After several minutes, Julian’s crying faded to hiccups.

He moved closer.

A tiny hand reached between the rails and touched Miles’s cheek.

Miles closed his eyes.

Julian patted his face, then grabbed his nose.

Claire laughed softly.

“He does that.”

Miles opened his eyes.

His son was smiling.

Later, while the twins ate strawberries and macaroni, Miles’s phone rang six times.

He ignored it.

At seven that evening, Claire walked him to the door.

“You did better than I expected.”

“That sounded almost like a compliment.”

“It wasn’t.”

“It was close.”

Claire folded her arms, but the corner of her mouth lifted.

“Tomorrow at four,” she said.

“I’ll be here.”