He only meant to adopt his ex-wife’s son. But fate had other plans—it was his own child all along…
When Catherine left Simon, he felt as though his heart had been ripped from his chest. Six years together, four of them under the same roof. He had loved her as deeply as a man could love—utterly, painfully. But she chose another. Richer. He promised her a new home, a life of comfort, freedom from counting pennies. And Simon was left alone. Broken.
He threw himself into his work. He barely came home except to feed the cat. Friends were forgotten, hobbies abandoned. But in time, he climbed the ranks, became a department head, then started his own business. Only then did the pain begin to fade. Life returned—time for people, for himself.
Then came the terrible news: Catherine was dead. Her husband, that wealthy man who had stolen her away from Simon, had beaten her. In one cruel moment, she had fallen—fatally. Her little boy was left behind, bound for an orphanage. Simon didn’t hesitate. He went to him.
The boy sat curled against the wall, weeping. Small, helpless, shattered—as if his world had ended. Simon couldn’t bear it. He visited him every day, bringing toys, sweets, sitting quietly beside him. Slowly, the boy warmed to him. And Simon made his choice: he would adopt him. He still loved Catherine. How could he leave her son alone in this world?
Within weeks, the boy came to live with him. A year later, Simon couldn’t imagine life without him. He was his son in every way that mattered—bright, kind, full of laughter. They strolled through parks, took trips, rode carousels. Then, at a friend’s birthday party, the friend remarked, “You sure he’s not yours? He’s the spitting image of you.”
Simon scoffed. “No, Catherine would’ve said.”
“And if she didn’t know?”
The thought gnawed at him. He took a DNA test. The result? A match. This was his son. His own flesh and blood.
Simon didn’t know whether to feel joy, grief, or guilt. He hadn’t known he had a child. And Catherine—perhaps she hadn’t known either. Or perhaps she had kept silent.
Now he understood why the boy had felt so familiar from the start, why he had clung to him. He hadn’t just saved another man’s child from loneliness. He had brought his own son home. The past couldn’t be undone, but now, he had the chance to make things right—for his son, for Catherine’s memory, for himself.
