ANYA POV:
I tried to push Julian's odd behavior out of my mind, focusing all my attention on my two babies.
I clumsily learned how to feed them, how to change their diapers. Nurse Miller was patient, her presence the only warmth I felt in this cold, sterile place.
In the afternoon, the ward door opened again. Julian was back.
He was followed by two nurses pushing a hospital bed that looked far more advanced and comfortable than mine.
My stomach tightened. I thought something was wrong with me or the babies, that we needed to be moved to a special care unit.
Julian walked to my bedside, his face holding a smile I couldn't understand, a mixture of joy and heartache. "Ms. Hayes, we're moving you to a different room."
I'm a little anxious, "Why? Is my children’s health..."
He cut me off, his tone gentle but firm. "No, you and the children are fine. It's just that this environment is too noisy. It's not conducive to your recovery."
I felt a pang of anxiety. "But... I don't have the money for a private room." Keenan never gave me extra money. My credit card limit wouldn't cover the cost of an expensive private room.
Julian's expression dimmed for a moment, then his voice became even softer. "Don't worry about the cost. Everything has been arranged. Consider it humanitarian care from the hospital for a special case."
The reason sounded flimsy, but his demeanor left no room for argument.
The families at the other beds watched with curiosity, whispering among themselves. Their stares made me uncomfortable.
Two nurses efficiently packed my few belongings, while another carefully lifted my babies and placed them in a wheeled, temperature-controlled nursery cart.
I was helped onto the new bed. The mattress was incredibly soft, the blanket a light, downy quilt.
Led by Julian, we left the noisy ward.
We didn't go to the regular patient floors. Instead, we took a private elevator that required a special key card.
The elevator ascended smoothly, stopping at the top floor. When the doors opened, I gasped.
This didn't look like a hospital at all. It was more like the executive floor of a five-star hotel. Thick carpets muffled our footsteps, art hung on the walls, and the air was filled with the faint scent of fresh flowers.
The corridor was silent.
Julian pushed open a door at the end of the hall and gestured for me to enter.
It was a massive suite, with a separate living area, a bedroom, and a fully equipped kitchenette. A huge floor-to-ceiling window offered a breathtaking view of the Boston skyline.
Sunlight streamed in, making the entire room bright and warm.
It was heaven compared to my previous bed, which didn't even have a view of the sky.
I was too stunned to speak, just staring at the scene before me.
The nurses placed my babies in the high-end cribs that were already set up in the bedroom, then quietly left, closing the door behind them.
Only Julian and I remained in the suite.
I finally found my voice, my words trembling. "Doctor... what is all this? I can't afford this, I..."
Julian walked over to me, his eyes a little red. He took an envelope from his pocket and handed it to me.
His voice was thick with emotion. "Child, you deserve all of this, and so much more. Because you are not an orphan."
My gaze fell to the envelope. The words "DNA Test Report" were printed on it. My heart began to pound against my ribs.
I looked up, meeting his gaze, which was full of expectation and apology.
He spoke slowly, his voice thick with an emotion he could no longer suppress. "Before you open it, I want you to be prepared. What's in this report will change your life completely."
"We... your family... we've been looking for you for many years."
My mind went blank. I couldn't process the weight of his words. Family? My family?
My knuckles were white from gripping the manila envelope. It felt as if it weighed a thousand pounds.
"My... family?" I repeated the word, a foreign concept on my tongue.
Julian sat on the sofa next to me, maintaining a respectful but close distance. His voice was filled with a mix of nostalgia and sorrow.
He began to tell a story that had been buried for over two decades.
