NOVEL NEXT Chapter 158: The Last Chapter
Diane's POV
Fifteen years later...
This particular evening started like so many others. Noah and I had left the office together, declining a dinner meeting with potential investors to keep our promise to be home for family time. The house was warm and inviting when we arrived, filled with the sounds of children's voices and the aroma of the dinner our housekeeper had prepared.
Dylan burst through the front door first, his football gear slung over his shoulder, his face flushed with excitement from varsity practice.
Behind him came Adrian, equally sweaty and exhilarated from his own team practice, his smaller frame working hard to keep up with his big brother's long strides. Danielle followed, carrying a canvas bag full of art supplies, paint smudges on her fingers and a satisfied smile on her face.
"Mom! Dad!" Dylan called out, dropping his gear by the door in a way that would have driven some parents to distraction but that we'd learned to see as a sign of children comfortable in their own home. "Coach says I might get scouted by college teams this year!"
"And Coach Martinez says I might be able to move up to JV next season if I keep improving!" Adrian added, his ten-year-old voice cracking with excitement as he tried to make his announcement as impressive as his big brother's.
"That's wonderful, both of you," I said, pulling them both into a group hug despite their protests that they were sweaty. "We're so proud of how hard you've both been working."
"Adrian's been practicing those plays I taught him," Dylan said, slinging an arm around his little brother's shoulders. "He's getting really good at reading the defense."
Adrian beamed under his big brother's praise, and I could see how much Dylan's approval meant to him.
Danielle presented us with her latest creation, a watercolor landscape that captured the way afternoon light fell across the football field where both her brothers practiced. Her technique had improved dramatically over the past year, and I could see hints of the professional artist she might become someday.
"This is beautiful, darling," Noah told her, examining the delicate brushwork with genuine appreciation. "You've really captured the energy of the game. I can almost hear the crowds cheering."
"I painted it during Dylan's practice last week," Danielle said, glowing under the praise. "Adrian was running drills in the background—see, that's him right there." She pointed to a small figure in the painting that perfectly captured Adrian's determined stance.
"Mrs. Patterson says I have natural talent," Danielle continued. "She thinks I should enter the state competition next year."
"I think that's a wonderful idea," I agreed, hanging her painting on the refrigerator gallery where we displayed all three children's achievements—Dylan's sports awards, Adrian's improvement certificates from football camp, and Danielle's artistic creations.
"Go get cleaned up, all of you," Noah called as they headed upstairs. "Dinner will be ready in twenty minutes."
"Race you to the shower!" Adrian called to Dylan, taking off up the stairs with his big brother in mock pursuit, both of them laughing.
"No running on the stairs!" I called after them, but I was smiling. Their bond was something beautiful to watch.
It was then that I heard the knock at the front door...firm, deliberate, with an undertone that made my stomach clench with inexplicable dread. Our housekeeper had already left for the day, and something about the sound of that knock sent ice through my veins.
When I opened the door and saw Richard Holbrook standing on my porch, the world tilted beneath my feet. My breath caught in my throat, and my hands began to tremble uncontrollably.
*No. No, not today. Not now.*
Fifteen years. Had it really been fifteen years?
Holbrook looked older, much older than the fifteen years that had passed since Liam's death. His hair was completely white now, his face lined with the weight of carrying other people's secrets for decades. But his eyes held the same kindness I remembered, and when he looked at me, I saw something that made my throat close with terror and anticipation.
"Hello, Diane," he said softly, and his voice confirmed my worst fears. "I know this is unexpected, but I think you know why I'm here."
My knees nearly buckled. The letter. The letter Liam had written to Dylan and Danielle, the one Holbrook had promised to deliver when they turned fifteen. I had dreaded this day for years, had nightmares about it, had tried to prepare myself, but nothing could have readied me for the crushing weight of this moment.
"They're upstairs getting ready for dinner," I managed to whisper, my voice barely audible. " Would you like me to call Dylan and Danielle down?"
"In a moment," Holbrook said, his voice gentle as he took in my obvious distress. "First, I wanted to speak with you. To prepare you, I suppose."
I invited him in with shaking hands, my mind racing. How would I explain this to Noah? How would Dylan and Danielle react? What about Adrian—how would this affect him? What if this destroyed everything we'd built? What if Liam's words from beyond the grave shattered the peace we'd found?
"Diane, I want you to know that in all my years of practice, I've never met a man more genuinely remorseful than Liam was in those final weeks," Holbrook said, settling into the living room chair I offered him. "Whatever he wrote to them, it comes from a place of absolute honesty and love."
Tears were already forming in my eyes. "I've been dreading this day and longing for it at the same time. They've asked so many questions over the years about their biological father, about why he died, about what he was really like. Adrian knows the story too—I've never hidden it from any of them. I've tried to be honest without being hurtful, but..."
"But Dylan and Danielle deserve to hear from him directly," Holbrook finished. "That's what Liam believed, and I think he was right."
I heard Noah's footsteps on the stairs and called out to him, my voice catching. When he appeared in the doorway and saw Holbrook, understanding immediately crossed his features. He moved to stand behind my chair, his hands resting protectively on my shoulders.
"Should I get all three children?" Noah asked quietly.
"Just Dylan and Danielle," I said. "This letter was written specifically for them. We'll talk to Adrian afterwards, explain everything."
I called upstairs for Dylan and Danielle, my voice trembling. They appeared within moments, freshly cleaned and curious about our unexpected visitor. Adrian started to follow them down, but I gently redirected him.
"Adrian, sweetheart, could you please go finish your homework? Mr. Holbrook needs to speak with Dylan and Danielle about something private first. We'll call you down for dinner in a little while."
Adrian looked disappointed but nodded obediently. "Okay, Mom. Tell me about it later?"
"Of course, baby."
I'd never hidden Holbrook's identity from Dylan and Danielle—they knew he had been their biological father's attorney, that he was the one who had helped arrange their financial inheritance. But seeing him here, now, they seemed to understand that something significant was happening.
"Dylan, Danielle," I said as they settled on the couch, "Mr. Holbrook has something very special for you. Something from your biological father."
Holbrook reached into his briefcase and withdrew a sealed envelope, yellowed slightly with age but still intact. The children's names were written across the front in Liam's careful handwriting.
"Your biological father gave me this letter fifteen years ago," Holbrook explained, his voice gentle but clear. "He asked me to wait until you were both fifteen—old enough to understand, but young enough to still have your whole lives ahead of you. He wanted to tell you some things himself, in his own words."
Dylan and Danielle exchanged a look—one of those wordless communications that twins seem to master from birth. Then Dylan, ever the protective big brother despite being only three minutes older, reached for the envelope.
After Holbrook left, we sat in the living room in heavy silence. The letter lay on the table between us, simultaneously the most important and most dangerous object in our home.
From upstairs, we could hear Adrian's voice calling down, "Can I come down now? I finished my math!"
"In just a few more minutes, sweetheart!" I called back, my voice strained.
"Can we read it?" Danielle asked quietly, her fingers tracing the edges of the envelope.
I nodded, not trusting my voice to remain steady. "Of course, sweetheart. It's yours."
Dylan carefully opened the envelope, his movements thoughtful—so much like Noah in his deliberation. He unfolded the pages, and both children leaned in to read together.
I watched their faces as they read, seeing their expressions shift from curiosity to sadness to something deeper—a kind of understanding that comes from finally having answers to questions you've carried your entire life.
Danielle started crying first, silent tears that rolled down her cheeks and dripped onto her hands. Dylan's jaw tightened, and I could see him fighting to maintain control.
When they finished, they sat in silence for several long moments. Finally, Danielle looked up at me with tear-streaked cheeks.
"Mom," she whispered, "if our biological father were still alive, would he have learned to love us the way Dad does? Would he have loved Adrian too?"
The question shattered something inside my chest. I moved from my chair to sit between them on the couch, pulling them both into my arms while Noah sat beside us, his presence a steady anchor.
"Oh, baby," I said, my own tears falling freely now. "He did love you. He loved you from the moment you were born, even though he never got the chance to show it properly. He loved you so much that it scared him, because he knew he wasn't good enough to be the father you deserved. And I know he would have loved Adrian just as much, he would have been amazed by the little brother you have."
"But Dad is," Dylan said, looking at Noah with eyes full of love and gratitude. "Dad has always been everything we needed. Everything all three of us needed."
Just then, Adrian appeared at the bottom of the stairs, having apparently decided that enough time had passed. He took in the scene…the tears, the serious expressions, the letter on the table, and his face grew concerned.
"What's wrong?" he asked, moving immediately to Dylan's side. "Did someone get hurt?"
Dylan pulled Adrian into their group embrace without hesitation. "No, buddy. We just learned some things about our biological father. The one Danielle and I have, not Dad."
Adrian nodded seriously. At ten, he understood, he had always known that Dylan and Danielle had a different biological father than he did, but had never seen it as anything that made them less of siblings.
"Was it sad news?" Adrian asked, looking at his sister's tear-streaked face with concern.
"Sort of," Danielle said, wiping her eyes. "But good too. He wanted us to know that he loved us, even though he couldn't be our dad."
Adrian considered this with the wisdom of a ten-year-old. "Well, that's good that he loved you. But I'm glad Dad is our dad instead. He's the best dad in the world."
Noah's eyes filled with tears as he pulled all three children into a hug. "You three have been the greatest gift of my life," he said softly. "Being your father…all of your father…has been my greatest honor."
"We love you, Dad," they said in unison, and Adrian added, "You're the only father we've ever needed. All of us."
As we sat together in the growing darkness, holding each other, processing the weight of what we'd just learned, I felt a strange sense of completion. The circle had closed. The final chapter of Liam's story had been written, and now we could all…truly and finally…continue to heal.
Adrian, nestled between his older siblings, looked up at me with Noah's earnest eyes. "Mom, are we still going to be the same family tomorrow?"
"Yes, baby," I whispered, surrounded by the family we'd built from love and choice rather than just blood. "We'll always be the same family. Nothing will ever change that."
"I love you all so much," I added, my voice thick with emotion.
"We love you too, Mom," they whispered back, and in that moment, surrounded by the family we'd created together…Noah, Dylan, Danielle, and Adrian…I knew that everything, all the pain, all the struggle, all the heartbreak, had been worth it to get us to this moment of grace.
Liam was finally at peace. And so, at last, were we.
"THE END!"