Chapter Thirty-Five
LOGAN
I barely slept that night. Most of it was spent talking with Evelyn, circling the same devastating discovery and the same impossible question: how would we tell the girls?
Death is difficult enough for an adult to process. For a child, it’s a labyrinth of confusion and fear. When we took them to Bonnie’s funeral, their questions were endless, and we’d answered them as gently as we could. But that was different. They had never even met their Aunt Bonnie.
This was their mother.
In the end, Evelyn and I decided we would sit down with them the following evening, just the two of us, after I got home from the hospital.
Now, late in the afternoon, I was trapped in my office, staring at a mountain of administrative paperwork. My concentration was shattered; my mind kept circling back to the lawyer’s call.
Realizing I was getting nowhere, I decided to step out for a coffee. I had an espresso machine in my office, but I hoped the walk to the cafeteria would clear my head enough to focus when I returned.
I had barely stepped into the hallway when I heard the sound of a scuffle.
“This is a restricted area for staff only,” a security guard said firmly. “You can’t be here.”
“I have to!” a man’s voice pleaded, frantic. “I need to see Dr. Turner. It’s urgent!”
Hearing my name, I turned toward the commotion. A small group—two security guards and three nurses—were trying to restrain a single, distraught man.
“Let me go! I have to talk to Dr. Turner!” he yelled as they began pulling him toward the elevators.
“Stop,” I commanded, striding over. “I’m Dr. Turner. What is this about?”
The staff parted, finally giving me a clear view of the man’s face. He was a stranger.
“Dr. Logan Turner…” he said, his voice laced with desperate relief. “Thank God. I need to speak with you.”
Wary, I extended my hand. His grip was shaky, his palm clammy. He couldn’t have been older than twenty.
“And you are…?” I asked.
“My name is George.”
That was all he said.
And I didn’t need a last name to know exactly who he was.
*****
That day, I ended up returning home much later than usual. I’d texted Evelyn around seven to say I was held up at the hospital and would explain everything when I got home.
It was the first time since becoming director that I’d come home after the girls were already asleep. For once, I was grateful. I wasn't sure I could have faced them right after what I’d learned. I needed time to process it all myself.
When I walked into the living room, I found Evelyn on the couch. It was past ten, and she was watching some medical drama—probably that one she loved so much.
“Hi, love. Long day?” she asked, turning to face me. But her smile faded as she took in my expression. “Logan? Is everything okay?”
I walked over and leaned across the back of the couch, greeting her with a soft kiss. Then I reached into my pocket, pulled out a flash drive, and held it up.
“What’s that?” she asked, confused. Then she tried to lighten the mood, a small smile playing on her lips. “Does anyone even use those anymore? You need to modernize, Dr. Turner.”
“George brought it to me,” I said, sinking onto the couch beside her.
Her smile vanished. “George? The ‘Uncle George’ the girls talked about? The one who left them at your hotel?”
“The same. He came to the hospital. It was a long conversation… that’s why I was so late.”
She reached for my hand, her touch a steadying anchor. “What did he say?”
“He was Ellie’s friend. He’s only nineteen. They were neighbors; she gave him guitar lessons when he was a kid. There was nothing romantic between them—George is gay, and his boyfriend is helping him hide from the police.”
“And now he’s in trouble for the insurance fraud…”
“Yes. But I’ve already called Janet. She’s taking his case.”
Evelyn nodded, her thumb stroking the back of my hand. “What else did he tell you?”
“About Ellie’s illness. She couldn’t afford care, so he offered the marriage scheme.
When the treatments stopped working and she couldn’t work, she had to move back in with her mother.
But that woman never accepted the girls…
Ellie’s biggest fear was what would happen to them after she was gone.
She didn’t want them to see her deteriorate.
The moment she was hospitalized, she made a drastic decision and asked George for one last favor—to bring the girls to me.
” I let out a heavy breath. “The rest, we know. She could have come to me, Evy. Even after all those years, I would have helped her. We were friends…”
“You were,” she said softly. “But that was a long time ago. She had no way of knowing the man you’d become. Desperate people don’t always make the rational choice.”
“I’m their father. That would never have changed. I would never have turned her away.”
“I know that,” she said, squeezing my hand. “Because I know you. But don’t add resentment to your grief, Logan. It’s just more weight to carry.”
She was right. Ellie was gone. My anger at her for not reaching out was a pointless, self-inflicted wound.
I held up the flash drive again. “George gave me this. Ellie made a video for me. He was supposed to deliver it.”
“Do you want to watch it now?” she asked gently. “I can give you some space.”
“No. Please stay. I don’t think I can watch this alone.”
She gave me a reassuring smile, took the flash drive from my hand, and plugged it into the TV. Then she returned to the couch, remote in hand.
“Ready?” she asked.
I nodded. She navigated to the folder, which contained two numbered files, and selected the first one.
Ellie’s face filled the screen. She was older than I remembered, but the six years since I’d last seen her hadn’t just aged her—they had weathered her.
She wore heavy makeup, likely to conceal the shadows of illness, and her straight brown hair was clearly a wig.
She was propped up in a hospital bed, an IV line taped to her hand.
“Is it recording?” she asked someone off-camera. After a moment, she nodded and looked directly into the lens. “Hey, Logan. It’s been a while. If I still know you at all, you’re probably furious with me right now. You’ve likely called me every name in the book… and you’d be right to.”
She paused, her breath catching. She looked exhausted, each word an effort. After a few seconds, she found the strength to continue.
“I won’t waste your time listing my mistakes; you’re living with the consequences of them. I hope you can forgive me one day, but I’ll understand if you can’t.”
Another labored breath. “And, knowing you, you must have been completely blindsided when the girls showed up at your door. But I also know your character. I knew that no matter how shocked you were, you wouldn’t turn them away. You’ve always been a man of integrity.”
A weak, almost imperceptible smile touched her lips before fading.
“Still, I confess I wasn’t willing to take that risk.
So, here’s another reason for you to hate me: I was the one who leaked the story to the press.
When George took the girls to your hotel, he tipped off a few journalists covering the conference.
Within a couple of hours, the ‘scoop’ was online.
I never imagined it would blow up like it did.
I just asked him to do it as a little extra pressure—in case you didn’t believe they were yours and sent them away. ”
She looked down, her guilt palpable even through the screen. “I know you’d never do that, Logan. But mothers… we can be a little paranoid. I just had to make sure there was no chance of them ending up in the system. I had to make sure you had no choice but to keep them.”
“I would never do that,” I grumbled, a fresh wave of irritation cutting through my grief that Ellie had even entertained the thought.
Beside me, Evelyn squeezed my hand, her voice soft. “I know, love. I know.”
On the screen, Ellie continued, her image flickering slightly.
“After the story broke, I started following the news about you. And the developments were… unusual, to say the least. Suddenly, a woman I’d never met was being called the mother of my daughters.
It terrified me at first. But that fear didn’t last long.
I found photos from the conference itself.
I saw the girl—her name is Evelyn, isn’t it?
—I saw her in a food court, talking to my daughters.
The way she looked at them… it was with such affection.
And in one photo, she seemed to be signing to Rory. That’s what calmed my heart.”
She took a shaky breath, gathering her strength.
“Then I saw more photos. I’ll admit it, I became a stalker, spending whole days searching your name online.
Have you ever searched the hashtag #LoganTurner?
You’d be shocked how many people photograph you in public.
I saw pictures of you all buying a Christmas tree…
and then, just yesterday—the day before I’m filming this—I saw pictures of the four of you in Central Park.
Evelyn seems to genuinely love my daughters.
You seem to love them, too. The four of you look like a family.
And most importantly… Anna and Rory look happy. Seeing that… it lets me feel at peace.”
She looked away from the lens, blinking rapidly as she fought back tears. When she looked back, she’d forced a fragile smile.
“Take good care of them, Logan. Please. That’s all I ask.
” She shifted her gaze, as if looking directly at the other side of the screen.
“And Evelyn, if you’re watching this… I know you don’t know me, and you probably think I’m a terrible person.
But my soul will always be grateful for the love you’ve shown my girls. Thank you.”
She paused, the silence heavy with finality.
“I think that’s all. The next video is for our girls.
I don’t know if they’ve been told I’m gone by now, but…
I didn’t want them to see me suffer. I wanted their last memory of me to be one of love, not sickness.
But I’m afraid all I left them with was a feeling of abandonment.
I need to say goodbye properly. Please, show them the next video. ”
She took one last, steadying breath. “And finally… I don’t know if there’s anything after death.
To be honest, I don’t really believe there is.
But if there is… if it’s like people say, and I become a star in the sky or something…
know that I will always be watching over this beautiful family you’ve created.
Goodbye, Logan. And thank you for giving me the best gifts of my life. ”
The screen went black.
I could barely see through the tears blurring my vision. Evelyn’s arms wrapped around me, holding me tighter, and I could feel the quiet shudder of her own crying against my shoulder.
We didn’t speak. We didn’t need to. We just sat there in the dim light, anchored by each other’s presence and the shared, profound weight of a mother’s final goodbye.