Chapter Three The Road No One Chose #2
Lucas turned slowly.
“Dad.”
Hudson looked toward him.
“I suspected.”
Naomi’s anger flared.
“When?”
“After Paris.”
“Not good enough.”
Hudson took the rebuke.
“Rose mentioned a woman who had remained outside Elias’s reach for decades. I believed she meant Amara.”
“You didn’t think to tell me?”
“I had no proof.”
Naomi laughed bitterly.
“You investigated me based on less.”
The words landed.
Hudson’s face tightened.
“Yes.”
No defense.
Naomi almost hated how much easier it had become to stay angry when he fought back.
Now he accepted every blow.
“I was wrong.”
Lucas looked toward his father.
“You keep saying that.”
“I expect I’ll have to say it many more times.”
Hudson reached inside his coat.
He removed a folded envelope.
“I came because this belongs to Naomi.”
She did not take it immediately.
“What is it?”
“Something Arthur left in my private archive.”
“Another secret?”
“Yes.”
Naomi exhaled.
“Of course.”
Hudson placed it on the table.
Across the front was written:
AMARA JAMES
Naomi’s chest tightened.
“When did you find it?”
“Last night.”
“Why wasn’t it in the police archive?”
“It was inside a locked compartment coded under my mother’s birthday.”
Lucas looked suspicious.
“Convenient.”
Hudson met his gaze.
“I understand.”
Naomi picked up the envelope.
The seal had already been broken.
She looked at Hudson.
“You opened it.”
“Yes.”
Anger rose again.
“It wasn’t addressed to you.”
“No.”
“Then why?”
Hudson’s expression changed.
“Because I saw Amara’s name and believed the contents might threaten you.”
Naomi stared at him.
“That is exactly the problem.”
He lowered his eyes.
“I know.”
She almost threw the envelope back.
Instead, she opened it.
Inside were two documents.
The first was a photograph.
Amara standing outside the House of the Bluebird.
Pregnant.
Her hand rested on her stomach.
Beside her stood Joseph.
And behind them—
Hudson.
Naomi stared.
“You knew her.”
Hudson shook his head.
“I didn’t remember.”
“You were there.”
“Yes.”
“The night Elias drugged you.”
“Apparently.”
Lucas leaned closer.
His father looked barely thirty in the photograph.
Amara stood beside him smiling.
Not afraid.
Hudson looked different too.
Younger.
Open.
A version of him Lucas had almost never seen.
Naomi turned over the photograph.
Arthur had written:
Hudson protected Amara when the House divided.
Lucas looked at his father.
“You protected her?”
Hudson stared at the image.
“I don’t remember.”
Naomi unfolded the second document.
A medical report.
Her stomach dropped.
“What is this?”
Hudson’s jaw tightened.
“Read the final page.”
Naomi did.
Then stopped.
Her pulse became erratic.
Lucas immediately noticed.
“What?”
She handed him the report.
He read.
His face changed.
Anthony leaned over.
Ross moved closer.
The document described Amara’s pregnancy.
Routine tests.
Complications.
Blood typing.
And then one note.
Paternity analysis requested by A. James.
Naomi gripped the table.
A result had been attached.
The name of the presumed father had been redacted.
But the genetic relationship remained.
Subject shares paternal lineage with House Taylor bloodline.
No one moved.
Lucas reread it.
Once.
Twice.
Then looked at Naomi.
“What does that mean?”
Hudson answered quietly.
“Naomi’s biological father was a Taylor.”
Silence exploded without sound.
Naomi stared at him.
“No.”
Hudson raised both hands slightly.
“I don’t know who.”
Lucas’s expression hardened.
“Your father?”
“Impossible.”
“Why?”
“Edmund was dead by then.”
“Arthur?”
Hudson’s face turned cold.
“No.”
“You can’t know that.”
“I can.”
Naomi stood.
“Stop.”
Everyone became silent.
She looked toward the report.
“My mother was twenty-three.”
Hudson nodded.
“Arthur was elderly.”
“That doesn’t make it impossible.”
“No.”
“But you believe it wasn’t him.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Hudson hesitated.
Naomi caught it.
“There’s something else.”
He looked toward Lucas.
“Dad.”
Hudson exhaled.
“There were only two living male Taylors in the direct family line at the time Amara became pregnant.”
Naomi felt cold.
Lucas looked toward his father.
“You.”
Hudson nodded.
“And?”
His eyes moved toward Rose’s file.
“Gabriel.”
Mateo Serrano.
Naomi sat slowly.
No one spoke.
Either Hudson Taylor...
Or Mateo Serrano...
Could be Naomi’s biological father.
Lucas went completely still.
Naomi looked toward him.
They both understood the implication before anyone said it.
If Hudson were her father—
Lucas and Naomi were related.
The room became unbearable.
Naomi stood abruptly.
“No.”
Lucas reached for her.
She stepped back.
Not rejecting him.
Panicking.
“Naomi.”
“No.”
Her breath came too quickly.
“We need the full test.”
Ross immediately nodded.
“We do.”
“Now.”
“Yes.”
Hudson stood.
“I’ll provide a sample.”
Lucas stared at him.
“If you’re her father—”
Hudson closed his eyes.
“I know.”
Naomi looked between them.
The man she loved.
The man who might be her biological father.
Her mother who had disappeared.
Elias.
Serrano.
Every bloodline folding inward until love itself felt threatened by history.
“I need air.”
She walked toward the balcony.
Lucas followed.
Naomi stopped him at the doors.
“Please.”
He froze.
She saw the pain in his face.
“I’m not pushing you away.”
“Then let me come.”
“I need five minutes where nobody’s blood matters.”
Lucas swallowed.
Then nodded.
“I’ll be right here.”
Naomi stepped outside alone.
Cold London wind struck her face.
She gripped the railing.
Her engagement ring caught the morning light.
For the first time since Lucas placed it on her hand, she could barely look at it.
Behind the glass, he stood exactly where he promised.
Not approaching.
Not leaving.
Beside her even through the distance.
Naomi closed her eyes.
“Daddy,” she whispered.
“Please tell me you didn’t lead me this far just to take him away from me.”
The DNA samples were collected within an hour.
Hudson.
Naomi.
Lucas.
Ross insisted on Lucas’s sample as a secondary comparison.
Naomi barely spoke.
The laboratory promised expedited kinship results within six hours.
Six hours.
Six hours to determine whether the love of Naomi’s life belonged to her future or her bloodline.
Lucas remained near her without forcing conversation.
Eventually, Naomi found him in the study.
He stood at the window holding the architecture sketch of the fashion school.
She leaned against the doorframe.
“You kept it.”
He turned.
“Of course.”
Naomi looked at the drawing.
“What if—”
“Don’t.”
Her eyes filled.
“Lucas.”
“Not until we know.”