ELENA SEES HIM FIRST
The faint creak of Alejandro’s Italian shoes was nothing… but Elena reacted like it was thunder. She turned, color draining from her face.
The boys sensed her fear at once and looked toward the doorway in perfect unison.
Alejandro couldn’t breathe. Up close, the resemblance wasn’t “similar.”
It was identical.
“WHO ARE THESE CHILDREN?”
Elena jumped up, instinctively stepping in front of the boys with her arms spread wide—protective, fierce.
Alejandro marched forward, rage beginning to replace shock. His voice shook the room:
“What does this mean, Elena?”
The boys clustered behind her, trembling. Elena’s voice trembled too, but she held her ground:
“They’re not strangers, sir.”
Alejandro demanded, “Whose children are they? Are they yours?”
Elena tried a weak lie—“My nephews.”
Alejandro’s eyes flicked to the boys’ shirts. One wore a fabric pattern Alejandro recognized from clothing he’d thrown away.
He said coldly, “Why are they dressed in my old clothes?”
THE BIRTHMARK
Alejandro reached for the bravest boy’s arm. Elena warned, low and sharp: “Don’t touch them.”
But Alejandro ignored her.
And then he saw it: a birthmark on the child’s forearm—exactly where Alejandro had his own. A mark passed down in his family line.
His knees nearly gave out. He searched the other boys’ faces, their features, their expressions. The truth pressed in like a wall.
