By 7:30 a.m., Ada was dressed in jeans and a navy-blue blouse, checking the baby bag one last time. The nanny carefully strapped the twins into their carriers as the driver pulled up at the front door.
"No sign of Madam?" Ada asked.
"None," the nanny replied, clearly frustrated.
Ada nodded. "Let's not keep the doctor waiting."
The drive to the hospital was short and quiet. Maurice squirmed, irritated by the movement. Marvin, calm as always, stared up at Ada with curious eyes.
At the hospital, the pediatrician looked up from the twins' file. "Routine immunisations. But these two…" She studied them briefly. "Identical, yet so different in behavior."
She smiled at Ada. "Are you their mother?"
Ada shook her head, gently rocking Maurice. "No. Just… someone close."
The shots were done in minutes. A few cries, some soft humming, and it was over. As they headed back to the car, the nurse said, "You're lucky. Most mothers don't have such calm babies or take this much care."
"I'm not their mother," Ada said again. But the comment stayed with her.
Ken sat alone in his study, shirt sleeves rolled up, a glass of whisky untouched beside him. The house was too quiet. He tapped his fingers on the desk, eyes fixed on his phone.
It rang.
"Hello?"
"Good evening, sir. This is Dr. Martins from Hope Diagnostics. The DNA results will be ready tomorrow morning."
Ken's heart skipped. "You're sure?"
"Yes, sir. The analysis is complete. We'll send the report to your secure line."
He ended the call without a word. His hand stayed frozen around the phone. On the screen was a photo; Marvin and Maurice, wrapped in identical blue blankets.
He leaned back slowly. His thoughts were racing.
What if they were his?
Then another face flashed in his mind.
Lina. Just sixteen. That summer. That one careless afternoon.
His jaw tightened.
Then Mara's voice echoed in his head: "She left… with her 10-year-old son..."
His heart pounded. Ten years. Could it be?
Could that boy be his son?
He stood abruptly and began pacing.
It had only happened once with Lina. She disappeared after that. He never saw her again until the day she gave birth right under his nose.
His mind spun.
Two babies in the nursery. A boy somewhere in America.
Was he a father to three children?
He rubbed his head. Too many questions. Too many secrets.
He needed the truth. And he needed it now.
***
The hospital visit had gone well. The twins whimpered during their shots, but Ada comforted them gently. Back at home, the nanny put them down for a nap. Ada stayed for a while, watching their peaceful faces.
Mara never came to check on them.
It wasn't the first time. But today, it felt different. Something tugged at Ada's attention.
She stood by the nursery window, arms folded, eyes on the hallway. She'd heard Mara's heels pass twice, once with her handbag, and later while she paced with a phone pressed to her ear.
Earlier, Ada had seen her outside by the pool. Her arms were crossed, her face stiff and tense. It didn't look like a business call. Not with that expression; blank, but cracking around the edges.
Ada had worked in enough homes to know when something wasn't right.
Later that evening in the kitchen, she found Mara staring at a boiling kettle, her tea forgotten beside her.
"Madam, should I help you with that?" Ada asked gently.
Mara blinked like she just realized someone else was there. "No," she said sharply, then softened. "I'm fine. Just tired."
But her eyes were wide, and her hands trembled slightly as she gripped her phone.
Ada stepped back. "Okay, ma."
She walked away, but her thoughts stayed behind.
Something was wrong. Mara wasn't just distant. She seemed troubled, nervous, and scared.
As Ada passed the hallway, she looked up the staircase.
The house was full. But someone was hiding something.
And it was getting too big to hide.
***
Ken sat on the edge of his study desk, staring at the sealed DNA envelope. The house was quiet, but his thoughts were loud.
There was a knock at the door.
"Come in."
Toby walked in, holding a folder.
Ken straightened. "Did you find anything?"
"Yes, sir." Toby handed him the file. "Lina and her son, Davis Obi, were listed on the flight manifest. Their seats were confirmed."
Ken flipped through the papers. "So they boarded?"
Toby hesitated. "That's the strange part. They didn't."
Ken looked up sharply.
"They never made it to the airport," Toby said. "I checked the airline's gate logs and security footage. There's no sign of them at all."
Ken blinked. "What?"
Toby nodded. "It's like they vanished before reaching the airport. The tickets were never used."
Ken's hands dropped to his sides. "Four days… and no one's heard from them."
"I've tried all their contact numbers. No luck. I'm now tracking their last known location."
Ken nodded, his jaw tight. "Keep digging. Don't stop until you find them."
"Yes, sir." Toby left.
Just as the door shut, Ada walked in holding a half-full mug of tea.
She looked at Ken and said, "Bad news before breakfast?"
Ken didn't reply right away.
Ada sat on the couch, legs tucked beneath her. "What's going on?"
Ken sighed, tapping the folder. "Lina didn't leave. She and her son were booked for a flight to the U.S., but they never showed up at the airport."
Ada's face turned serious. "That's strange. Have you talked to her?"
"She's gone silent. Her phone's off." He ran a hand through his hair. "It's like she disappeared with that boy."
Ada was quiet for a while. Her eyes moved to the sealed envelope beside his phone. "And that?"
Ken gave a dry laugh. "Answers. Or maybe more questions."
She leaned forward. "Ken... I didn't want to bring it up last night, but… something is wrong with Mara."
He looked at her.
"She's cold. Distant. She didn't even check on the twins after their shots. Yesterday, I saw her pacing on a call. When I walked in, she hung up quickly."
Ken frowned, thoughts swirling.
Ada stood. "You're chasing a mystery, Ken. But maybe the truth is closer than you think."
She walked out, leaving those words behind like a warning.
Ken turned back to the envelope.
This time, his hand didn't stop.