Nick had rehearsed the words all the way over. He would be calm, measured. He would remind Noel that the children needed him, that families didn't survive by cutting pieces of themselves away. He would speak with reason, not with anger, but reason collapsed the moment the door opened, and Thomas McAllister stood there, arms folded, jaw clenched.

"Turn around, Nick, you're not welcome here," Noel's father said. His voice was low and hard.

Nick swallowed.

"I'm not here to fight. I just want to see Noel and the kids.

Thomas's grip tightened on the doorframe. "You lost that privilege the moment you brought shame on my daughter."

Nick's chest burned.

"Shame? I made a mistake-"

"You humiliated her," Thomas snapped.

"You doubted her loyalty, tested your own children, then paraded another woman under the roof of a marriage you vowed to honor. Don't stand there and try to play it off as a mistake. It was a betrayal, plain and simple," he thundered.

Nick's pulse hammered.

"And you think keeping me from my family fixes that?"

"I think protecting my daughter from more of your poison is the only decent thing I can do," Thomas said coldly. The words struck like a blow. Nick's fists clenched at his sides.

"Thomas, I love Noel. I love Mason and Maire. Whatever you think of me, that doesn't change. You can't just erase me from their lives," he said through gritted teeth.

Thomas's eyes narrowed.

"Watch me," he said spitefully.

The standoff might have lasted all night if not for the soft sound of footsteps.

"Thomas, please," a gentle voice said from behind him.

Evelyn McAllister appeared, her apron dusted with flour, her hands still damp from washing vegetables. She slipped between them, her eyes kind but weary.

"Nick, this isn't the way," she said softly.

He exhaled shakily.

"Then tell me what is because I can't keep being locked out. They're my children, she's my wife."

Evelyn's gaze flicked toward her husband, then back to Nick.

"They're hurting, all of them. Every time you come here and argue on the porch, it makes the wound deeper. Do you understand?"

Nick's chest ached.

"I'm not here to argue. I just want to talk, to see them.

"No, not tonight, not tomorrow. Not until you learn what respect looks like," Thomas said firmly.

Nick turned on him, fury rising.

"Respect? You think you understand respect? You've hated me from the start. You didn't want me to marry her, did you? You thought I wasn't good enough and now, now you've got your excuse to throw me out like garbage."

Thomas didn't flinch.

"You're right. I didn't like you. I didn't want you to marry Noel and every day, you've proven me right."

Nick's vision blurred with anger. He wanted to shout, to force his way past, to make them see he wasn't the villain Thomas painted him to be. But he forced himself to breathe instead.

"I'm not perfect, I've made mistakes. But don't you dare stand there and tell me I don't love them. That I don't deserve to fight for them," he said finally, voice shaking.

Thomas's jaw worked, but Evelyn touched his arm gently.

"Enough," she whispered.

For a moment, Thomas didn't move. Then, with a sharp exhale, he stepped back, letting Evelyn close the door between them. Nick stood on the porch, fists trembling, staring at the wood as if he could will it to open again.

***

The drive home was a blur. His hands gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles whitened. His father-in-law's words echoed in his head: "You lost that privilege."

He slammed his fist against the dashboard, the sound echoing in the car. He wanted to blame himself, and he did, God, he did. But anger needed somewhere else to go, and it landed squarely on Aunt Bella. If not for her careless comment. If not for her sharp tongue at that reunion, none of this would have started. He could still hear her voice, teasing, laughing: "Doesn't Mason look just like Joe?"

That was the seed, the poison planted in his mind. The spark that had burned his marriage to ash. Nick's jaw tightened. Bella had always meddled, always prided herself on stirring the pot. Maybe she hadn't meant for this storm to unravel everything, but she hadn't cared enough to stop it either. And now, his children were suffering. His wife was barricaded behind her father's walls. His name was in ruins at the firm, all because of one careless comment. Nick gripped the steering wheel harder, the headlights cutting through the dark road.

If Bella thought she could laugh her way out of this, she was wrong.

***

Back at the McAllister house, Evelyn watched from the kitchen window as Nick's car pulled away. She sighed deeply, turning to her husband.

"Thomas, you can't keep shutting him out. He's their father."

Thomas scowled.

"A father? A father protects. A father doesn't tear his family apart.

Evelyn shook her head. "A father is also flawed and, like it or not, forgiveness isn't yours to give or withhold. It's Noel's"

Thomas's jaw tightened, but he said nothing. Upstairs, Noel listened from her room, her children sleeping fitfully on either side of her. Her chest ached with the memory of Nick's voice at the door, raw with desperation. She pressed her hand to her heart, torn in two.

---

Meanwhile, Nick sat in his empty house, pouring another drink. The silence roared around him. He pressed his palms to his face, whispering Noel's name like a prayer, but in the dark corners of his mind, another name lingered louder, sharper: Bella.

He couldn't shake the image of her smirk. If she hadn't opened her mouth that day, maybe his world would still be intact. Maybe he wouldn't be here, alone, hated, cut off from the people who mattered most. The anger festered, coiling tight in his chest and as much as he hated to admit it, resentment gave him something grief couldn't: fire, a reason to keep fighting.

The house was quiet, far too quiet for Nick’s restless mind. The kind of silence that pressed in on him, not comforting but oppressive. Outside, Toronto’s streets hummed faintly with distant traffic, but in here, only the low tick of the clock in the hallway broke the stillness.

They had gotten back from the reunion late that evening, and the children were tired and already dozing off even before they got out of the car. It was a struggle to get them to take a bath before going to bed.

Then he and Noel, tired as well, had taken their baths and retreated to their bedroom. And now Nick lay on his side in the dark, staring at Noel. She slept soundly beside him, her breathing even, one hand curled lightly beneath her chin as though she were dreaming of something soft and sweet. The moonlight fell across her face through the slats of the blinds, silvering her skin, catching the strands of hair that had escaped her bun.

She was beautiful. Too beautiful, Nick always thought to himself sometimes. He studied the slope of her nose, the delicate curve of her lips, the way her chest rose and fell with each steady breath. He had seen her in every mood; laughing with Mason over a silly joke, humming while she cooked, flushed with anger when she felt wronged. But there was something about her face in sleep, stripped of defense, that always undid him.

Tonight, though, he did not feel undone by love. He felt undone by doubt. His chest tightened as his mind replayed Bella’s words: "Doesn’t he look just like Joe?"

It had been said in jest, tossed casually like Bella tossed all her barbs, and certainly not to be taken seriously if he had any sense, but still it had clung to him, burrowed into him. He had tried to shake it off at the reunion, tried to drown it in food and chatter and the sound of laughter, but the seed had been planted, and it was growing.

Nick’s gaze flicked from Noel’s face to the framed photographs on the dresser across the room. Mason’s wide grin at his last birthday party, icing smeared across his cheeks. Maire, clutching her favorite doll, eyes sparkling like Noel’s.

They were his children, his life. He knew that. He had been there for every moment; Mason’s first steps, Maire’s first word, the way Noel had leaned on him during both labors... and yet. He squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them again, forcing himself to breathe evenly.

"Am I being paranoid, or is something real here?" he thought to himself.

The logical part of him said he was being ridiculous. Mason was his son, how could he not be? Mason had his energy, his same stubborn streak, his charm, everyone said so. And Maire, she was Noel’s mirror, but her laugh and mischievous glances, those were his. But then Bella’s voice crept back, needling.

"Doesn’t he look just like Joe?"

Joe, with his broad shoulders, his easy grin, the son of the estate’s butler who had grown up alongside the family. Joe, who was still around, working odd jobs, carrying trays, and fixing things. Nick tried to dismiss the thought, but he remembered the way Noel had looked away when Joe was near, how carefully she’d avoided his eyes. It had been subtle, too subtle for anyone else to notice, but Nick had noticed. He always noticed things like that; he was perceptive, everyone said so.

And now his chest burned with unease. He shifted on the bed, careful not to wake Noel. She stirred anyway, rolling slightly toward him, her hand brushing his arm. It should have soothed him, but it only tightened the coil inside him. Nick studied her again, his mind a battlefield. One part of him whispered that he was a fool, chasing shadows. Another part insisted he was right to wonder.

His firm was thriving, his home immaculate, his marriage admired, but perfection was fragile. Any idealistic person knew this at the back of their minds. They also knew that once a crack appeared, no matter how small, they could not stop seeing it.

"What if Mason isn’t mine?" The thought sliced through him.

He bit his lip, hard, as if the pain would chase it away, but it remained, lodged like glass in his chest. He thought back to the early days of their marriage, when Noel’s laughter had been his anchor, when her loyalty had felt unquestionable.

He remembered their vows, her steady gaze, the warmth in her voice. He remembered the way she had chosen him against her father’s disapproval, how she had stood by him when his firm was just beginning, when money was tight and faith was all they had.

Would that woman betray him? Could she? Nick stared at her now, sleeping peacefully, unknowing of the storm brewing inside him. He wanted to reach out, to smooth the hair from her forehead, to remind himself she was his. But his hand hovered, then fell back against the sheets.

Because what if she wasn’t entirely his?

The thought terrified him more than anything else.

He turned onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. He thought of Mason’s smile, so like his own, and yet, when he really looked, wasn’t there something different about the eyes? Something in the shape of the jawline? Maybe he was imagining it. Maybe.

He thought of Noel’s avoidance at the reunion and how quickly she had turned her gaze from Joe. Was it guilt? Or just a coincidence? He didn’t know.

The clock ticked on. Midnight passed, then one a.m. Nick’s body ached with exhaustion, but his mind would not quiet. His thoughts circled tighter and tighter until only one desperate conclusion remained. He needed proof. Proof that could silence the whispers in his head once and for all. Proof that would either confirm his darkest fear or free him from it.

His mind latched onto the idea with frightening clarity; a DNA test. It was drastic, invasive, even cruel, but it would tell him the truth. It would give him something solid to hold onto, instead of drowning in suspicion.

Nick’s hand curled into a fist against the sheets. He felt sick, even considering it. What kind of husband secretly tested his own children? What kind of man doubted the woman who had given him everything?

And yet, what kind of man lived a lie?

The questions tore at him until his chest hurt. He closed his eyes, exhaling shakily. The decision had already been made, though he would not admit it aloud.

Tomorrow, he would find a way.

Noel shifted beside him, murmuring something soft in her sleep, her hand brushing his again. Nick froze, guilt tearing through him, but he did not pull away. He let her hand rest there, warm against his skin, even as the weight of his choice pressed heavier and heavier on his heart.

Because love, as perfect as it looked from the outside, could not silence doubt, and doubt, once planted, demanded answers.

The next morning, Nick woke with the same heaviness in his chest, a pressure that had not lifted since the reunion. He had hoped sleep might wash it away, but his dreams had been fractured. He rose early, before Noel stirred, and stood by the window staring at the gray Toronto sky.

The city was waking. Cars hummed faintly in the distance, a neighbour’s dog barked, and the scent of coffee drifted faintly up from the kitchen where Noel had set the machine the night before. It should have been a comforting scene, the kind that made him feel rooted. Instead, his heart thudded with a nervous rhythm that refused to quiet.

By the time Noel joined him downstairs, wrapped in a soft robe, Nick had already rehearsed the role he would play; calm, steady, as if everything was still perfectly alright. He would not let her see the storm inside him.

"Morning", Noel said, her voice still warm with sleep as she poured herself coffee.

"Morning", Nick replied, forcing his tone light. He kissed her forehead, lingering for a second as though the feel of her skin could ease the guilt crawling beneath his own.

She looked up at him then, her brow knitting slightly.

"Well, you're up early. Couldn’t sleep?" she asked.

"Big week at the firm, I have a lot on my mind", Nick lied smoothly.

She nodded, accepting the excuse, though her eyes lingered on him as if trying to read the truth.

***

Nick weighed the thought of the decision he had come to the previous night all through the day. He hesitated over whether he should go ahead with it or not. That evening, when Mason bounded into the living room with his math workbook, Nick saw his chance, and he grabbed it with both hands.

"Dad, can you help me with this?" Mason asked, dropping the book onto the coffee table and flopping down beside him.

Nick smiled, ruffling his son’s hair, though his stomach tightened with unease. He reached for Mason’s pencil, guiding him through the equation, but his mind was already racing ahead. When Mason laughed at a silly mistake and left his pencil behind to chase Maire up the stairs, Nick’s hand trembled slightly.

The pencil, chewed at the end, smudged with Mason’s saliva and consequently DNA, was exactly what he needed. He pocketed it quickly, heart pounding, before Noel reentered the room carrying a basket of laundry.

"Where did Mason run off to?" she asked, glancing around.

"Upstairs with Maire", Nick said, smiling easily, praying she wouldn’t notice the tightness in his voice.

Noel smiled faintly and disappeared toward the laundry room.

***

The next day, Maire provided another opportunity. She was colouring at the kitchen table, her tongue peeking out in concentration, crayons scattered across the surface. When she finished, she left behind the straw from her juice box, sticky with the last sip. Nick picked it up carefully when Noel stepped out to take a phone call. He slipped it into a small envelope, his pulse racing.

The guilt was sharper this time; Maire was so little, so trusting. She adored him and believed in him utterly. What kind of father used her innocence this way? But once the thought of doubt had taken root, it couldn't be stopped, it demanded answers. By the end of the day, Nick had sealed both items in separate envelopes, labelled discreetly. He tucked them into his briefcase, the weight of them heavier than any blueprint or contract.

***

The days crawled by in a haze of tension. At the firm, Nick found it hard to concentrate. His staff noticed the distraction in the way he stared too long at drawings, how he snapped at small mistakes. At home, Noel’s watchful eyes followed him more than usual. One evening, as she cleared the dinner plates, she asked softly,

"You’ve been restless lately. Is it work, or is it… something else?"

Nick froze, the words cutting too close. He forced a smile, shaking his head.

"Work. It's just I have a lot of deadlines piling up", he answered.

She hesitated, studying him, but didn’t press. Still, her silence held weight. She knew him too well. She could sense something was wrong, even if she couldn’t name what it was. That night, as she slipped into bed beside him, Nick lay awake long after. Her hand rested lightly against his chest, her breathing slow, her trust complete, and he lay there, drowning in guilt, knowing he had already crossed a line she could not imagine.

***

Two days later, he mailed the samples. It was a simple act, just a discreet package dropped into a post box on his way to the firm. He had researched carefully, chosen a private lab, and paid extra for confidentiality. His hands shook as he slid the envelope in, the sound of it falling into the box echoing in his ears.

When he walked away, the city seemed sharper, louder, every noise exaggerated. He half expected someone to call after him, to accuse him of betrayal. But the street carried on as usual, people hurrying to work, a bus pulling to the curb, a cyclist weaving through traffic. The world hadn’t changed, only Nick had.

The days that followed were the longest of his life. He carried the secret heavily, every smile came out looking forced, every conversation with Noel tinged with unease. One night, he stood at the doorway of the children’s room, watching Mason and Maire sleep. Mason sprawled across his bed, sheets tangled around his legs, mouth open slightly in the deep sleep. Maire curled on her side, arms wrapped around her doll, hair fanned across the pillow. Nick’s chest ached.

They were his world, his joy, his pride, his legacy. He had built everything for them. And yet here he was, questioning the very foundation of it, but then again, if the results came back and it turned out they weren't his, that would equally crush him. He stepped inside quietly, brushing Mason’s hair from his forehead, adjusting Maire’s blanket. They stirred but did not wake. He stood there for a long time, guilt gnawing at him, whispering that he was betraying them even as he told himself he was protecting them.

***

The email came five days later. Nick was at his desk at the firm, papers spread around him, when the notification pinged. He froze, staring at the subject line: CONFIDENTIAL RESULTS – ELBA SAMPLES.

His mouth went dry. His hands trembled as he clicked it open, eyes scanning the clinical lines of the report.

"Sample provided is a 99.9% match"

Both children, Mason and Maire, were his.

Nick exhaled, his body sagging with relief. For a moment, he let the weight lift, let the truth wash over him. He should have felt free, should have felt foolish for ever doubting. He should have closed the laptop, gone home, embraced Noel, and laughed at his own paranoia.

But instead, as the relief settled, another feeling crept in: guilt, sharp and searing. He had doubted Noel, the woman who had given him everything. He had doubted his own children and worse, even with the truth in front of him, the seed Bella had planted did not die.

He dreaded how he would tell Noel about this, about how he had doubted her so much that he had carried out a DNA test behind her back. Maybe he shouldn't? Or maybe he wouldn't. Other than that, he feared the doubt that had taken a deep root in his heart because if he had been wrong this time, what about the next? If trust could fracture once, could it ever truly be whole again?

Nick closed the laptop slowly, his reflection faint on the black screen. His jaw was tight, his eyes haunted. The results had given him what he wanted. But peace, he realised, would not come so easily.