Chapter 2 - Blood and DNA
By eight o'clock the next morning, my penthouse was quiet, but the air was charged with anticipation. I had called my personal physician, Dr. Harrison, a man who had served my family for decades but whose primary loyalty was to me, not my mother.
The four boys sat in a row on the long leather sofa, their legs dangling, sipping hot cocoa. They were fascinated by the city skyline outside the floor-to-ceiling windows.
"Are you really a prince, mister?" Micah asked, pointing at the towering skyscrapers of Manhattan.
"No, buddy," I smiled, sitting on the coffee table in front of them. "Just a man who owns a few buildings."
"Our mom is a princess," Mason declared proudly, wiping a mustache of chocolate foam from his upper lip. "She works all day so we can buy toys."
My throat tightened. Mara had been working three jobs, living in cramped rentals, and dodging eviction while I lived in luxury, believing I had been betrayed.
Dr. Harrison stepped into the room with four cotton swabs and a collection kit. "It will only take a second, boys. Just a gentle rub on the inside of your cheek."
The quadruplets were remarkably brave, holding still as the doctor collected the samples. Once he packed the vials into a thermal case, Harrison looked at me gravely.
"I’ll run this through my private lab under a pseudonym," Harrison whispered. "We will have the definitive results in six hours. But Julian... as a man who delivered you thirty years ago, I don't need a lab test to tell you those are Whitakers."
"I know," I said quietly. "I just need the legal proof to protect them."
After Harrison left, Mara emerged from the kitchen carrying a tray of toast. Her face was pale, dark circles shadowing her green eyes. She set the tray down and motioned for me to follow her into the study.
She closed the heavy oak door behind us. "Julian, you don't understand what your mother is capable of. When she finds out the boys exist, she won't just ignore them. She will try to take them from me. She has millions, an army of attorneys, and connections in every courtroom in New York."
I walked over to the window, staring out at the grey city. "She won't take them, Mara. Because I won't let her."
"You couldn't stop her six years ago!" she snapped, tears overflowing her eyelashes. "You were asleep in a hospital bed while she dismantled my life! I’ve lived in fear for six years, moving from town to town every time I thought someone recognized me. I can't lose my boys, Julian. They are all I have."
I turned, striding across the room until I stood directly in front of her. Without thinking, I reached out and took her shaking hands in mine. She flinched, then let out a shuddering breath, her fingers tightening around mine.
"Six years ago, I was helpless," I said, looking deep into her eyes. "I trusted the wrong person. But I am no longer that foolish kid. I am the CEO of Whitaker Enterprises. I hold the voting shares, not my mother. I will build an impenetrable wall around you and our sons. No one—not my mother, not the Cartwrights, not all the lawyers in Manhattan—will touch you again."
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Before she could answer, my desk phone rang. It was the building's front desk security.
"Mr. Whitaker," the guard said frantically. "Your mother, Mrs. Eleanor Whitaker, is in the lobby with three security guards and her senior counsel. They are demanding access to your elevator."
