The Father I Once Knew
When child services arrived, the caseworker introduced herself as Rachel Morgan. She spoke to the twins first—not the adults.
I respected that.
Her questions were simple. She didn’t rush them. She didn’t offer promises she couldn’t guarantee.
The children told her their father’s name.
Samuel Lyle.
I knew it.
Years ago, Samuel had come into my office carrying a folder filled with financial records. He had uncovered something wrong in a company I was preparing to acquire.
He could have sold the information.
He could have used it for himself.
Instead, he chose to warn me.
“Your name is tied to this,” he had said. “You should know before dishonest people use it against you.”
Samuel was honest.
Quiet.
Worn down.
The kind of man who valued truth over power.
I had offered him a high-paying position.
He refused. His wife was expecting twins, and he wanted to be home every evening.
Now his children sat in an airport office, sharing crackers and apple juice, because the woman he left behind had tried to walk away from them.
I called my attorney, Caroline West.
“Find everything you can on Samuel Lyle, Brianna Lyle, and the twins,” I said.
Caroline exhaled.
“Holden, tell me you’re not planning to bring home two children from an airport.”
“I know the law.”
“You know how to pressure rooms until people give you what you want.”
“Not this time.”
There was a pause.
Then she said, “Good. Children aren’t companies. You don’t acquire them.”
I looked through the glass at Maisie carefully tying Jonah’s shoelace.
“I know,” I said. “But I can make sure they aren’t forgotten.”
