Jordan Fox pushed the baby stroller through the rusted iron gates of the Manhattan cemetery, his boots crunching over dried, fallen leaves. The cold autumn wind whistled through the rows of cedar trees, rustling the wilted flowers and flickering candle flames that surrounded the gravestones. It was the first anniversary of his wife Kyra’s death, and the weight of grief pressed heavy on his heart.
“We’re going to see Mama,” he murmured, adjusting baby Alan, who was perched on his hip. The other two, Eric and Stan, lay comfortably in the stroller, their tiny fingers reaching for the dragonflies flitting through the crisp air.
As Jordan approached Kyra’s grave, a silhouette of a stranger caught his eye. A tall, broad-shouldered man in his late fifties stood by the tombstone, adjusting his Irish cap as he wiped dust from the marble. Jordan’s chest tightened. He had never seen this man before.
“Who is he, and why is he here?” he wondered, his steps slowing.
The man finished crossing himself and turned, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Amen,” he said, eyeing Jordan before extending a hand. But just as quickly, his gaze shifted to the babies, and his hand fell away.
Jordan hesitated, his instincts screaming that something was off. “Do I know you?” he asked, his voice laced with suspicion.
The man smiled. “You must be Jordan Fox. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “I knew you’d come here today. I was waiting for you. My name is Denis…from Chicago. Kyra’s ‘old’ friend.”
Jordan frowned. “Kyra never mentioned a Denis from Chicago.”
Denis gave a dry chuckle. “Yes, I figured as much. But I’m not here to talk about the past. I need to see your babies.”
Jordan instinctively tightened his grip on Alan. “Why?”
Denis stepped forward, peering into the stroller. His breath hitched. “They’re angels. Look at them! Their chestnut hair, those big lashes… they have my nose, my eyes.” He let out a shaky laugh before turning to Jordan. “Because they’re mine.”
The world seemed to tilt beneath Jordan’s feet. “Excuse me?!”
Denis nodded. “I know this is hard to believe, but I am their real father. I made mistakes in the past, but I’m here to fix them.”
Jordan’s mind reeled. His grip on the stroller tightened as he tried to process what he was hearing. “That’s impossible. You’re lying.”
Denis sighed. “Look, I know you’ve raised them. And I respect that. But I want my children back. I’m even willing to compensate you. I’ll give you $100,000—more, if needed. Take the money and let me have them.”
Jordan’s nostrils flared. “Are you out of your mind? These are my kids! Get out of here before I call the cops.”
Denis didn’t flinch. Instead, he rattled off details about Kyra that Jordan had never shared with anyone—her love for French cuisine, her allergy to peanuts, the small burn mark on her right thigh.
Jordan’s blood ran cold. “How… how do you know that?”
Denis took a deep breath. “Because I knew her long before you did. And I know that the babies she left behind aren’t yours. I’m their father. And I won’t stop until I take them back.”
Jordan felt his world shatter. Was everything Kyra told him a lie? He barely heard Denis slip a business card into his palm before walking away, leaving him standing at her grave, staring at the name engraved in stone.
Jordan barely made it home. His hands shook as he put the babies to sleep, his mind racing with doubts. He had trusted Kyra, loved her, married her in a whirlwind romance. But had she deceived him all along?
His mind drifted back to the night they met.
Kyra had been a regular at the bar where he worked. He had fallen hard for her, despite knowing she saw him as nothing more than the bartender who poured her margaritas. Then, one night, everything changed. She was heartbroken, crying over a boyfriend who had dumped her for another woman. Jordan had comforted her, and in that moment of vulnerability, she had clung to him.
Their whirlwind romance led to a quick marriage when Kyra told him she was pregnant—with triplets. Jordan had been shocked but overjoyed. He never questioned how quickly it had happened. Now, the truth clawed at his throat.
Had he been nothing more than a convenient replacement?
Sleep was impossible. The next evening, he met Denis at his house. The older man arrived with bags of baby supplies, but Jordan barely noticed. “Tell me everything,” he demanded.
Denis sighed and pulled out an old photograph. “Kyra was my daughter.”
Jordan’s breath hitched. “What? She told me her parents were dead!”
Denis wiped his eyes. “Because I was dead to her. I failed her, Mr. Fox. She had addiction problems, and I tried to push her into rehab. She refused, and I—” He exhaled sharply. “I kicked her out. She told me never to look for her again. And I didn’t. That was my biggest mistake.”
Jordan sat in stunned silence as Denis continued. “I didn’t even know she had children until her best friend told me. And the truth is… we don’t know who their real father is. Kyra had multiple relationships before she married you. She wasn’t sure herself.”
A lump formed in Jordan’s throat. “Then why did you say you were their father?”
“Because I was desperate. I lost my daughter, and I wanted to be part of my grandsons’ lives.”
Tears streamed down Jordan’s face. He had spent the last 12 hours questioning everything, but now, he knew the truth. The triplets weren’t his by blood—but they were his in every other way that mattered.
“I don’t care whose blood runs through their veins,” Jordan said hoarsely. “I raised them. I love them. I am their father.”
Denis nodded, his own tears falling freely. “And I want to be their grandfather. If you’ll let me.”
Jordan exhaled and reached out, shaking Denis’s hand. “They deserve a family. Let’s give them one.”
From that day forward, Denis became a part of their lives. He moved in to help, showering the triplets with love and attention. And Jordan? He no longer questioned his place in their lives. He had chosen them, and he would choose them every day for the rest of his life.
Because being a father wasn’t about biology—it was about love, devotion, and the unwavering choice to stay. And Jordan Fox was their father. Now and forever.
