The Next Morning

  After treating Angus, Seven accompanied Leona to the formal parlor where Alain and Amélie lounged. The air was warm and welcoming, the scent of freshly brewed coffee mingling with faint traces of lavender.

  “Good morning, Grandpa Alain, Mrs. Fortier,” he greeted politely as he acknowledged the dignified figures before him.

  Amélie arched a brow and scoffed, “Seven, shouldn’t you call me ‘Grandma’?”

  Though a little surprised, he clarified, “My apologies. Grandpa Alain insisted I address him that way when we first met. Since you didn’t request the same, I assumed formality was preferred.”

  Understanding dawned, and Amélie beamed. “I see. Then, from now on, can you call me ‘Grandma’?”

  “Yes, Grandma Amélie,” he complied, the corners of his mouth curling, his obedience eliciting a soft laugh from her.

  “That’s more like it! Please, have a seat,” she gestured gracefully toward the adjacent sofa. “Would you like something to drink?”

  “No, thank you, Grandma Amélie,” he declined as he settled beside Leona.

  Alain, eager to hear about his son’s progress, leaned forward. “Seven, how is Angus?”

  “Grandpa,” he began, “as I mentioned to Madam Antoine, his condition has significantly improved. With electro-acupuncture, he’s likely to regain consciousness much sooner than I initially estimated.”

  Leona’s eyes shimmered with gratitude, her voice trembling with emotion. “Thank you, Seven. We’ve clung to hope for so long. It’s been incredibly difficult for my father-in-law. He blames himself for what happened to Angus and for the abduction of my son.”

  Seven’s chest thudded at the revelation, chaotic thoughts tumbling in his mind. What could Alain Fortier have done to deserve such calamity? Even his grandson was kidnapped! Should I be helping such people?

  After a long beat, he broke the awkward lull. “Madam Leona, forgive me for asking, but what did Grandpa Alain commit to face such tragedies?”

  A stunned silence filled the parlor. The trio exchanged surprised glances; they had assumed the Fortier family’s misfortunes were widely known.

  “Seven, you don’t know what befell our family?” Leona asked, incredulous.

  Seven shook his head. “No, I don’t. These incidents took place 27 years ago. Coincidentally, I was born 27 years ago. So, how could I have known?”

  Leona’s expression shifted, her pulse quickening at his disclosure. Seizing the moment, she probed on, “May I ask when your birthday is?”

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “February seventh,” Seven responded evenly.

  Leona straightened. “So...”

  Seven anticipated her reaction and cut in with his usual candor. “I was left at an orphanage on that day. The director named the abandoned babies when they arrived. That’s how I got my name.”

  Leona’s breath hitched as she struggled to compose herself. “I… I’m sorry.”

  Seven’s features softened. “It’s alright, Madam Antoine. My past doesn’t define me. Besides, you had no part in it.”

  Her gaze held his, empathy and sorrow mingling in her now tear-filled eyes. “Thank you for sharing something so personal,” she murmured before continuing, “Let me tell you about our family’s misfortunes.”

  Exhaling a heavy sigh, she began, “Before my father-in-law was born, his parents had tried for years to conceive. Desperate, they consulted a clairvoyant who suggested adopting a baby to enhance fertility.

  “Six months after adopting a baby boy named Ivon, my father-in-law was conceived. Despite being adopted, Ivon was cherished as the eldest son.

  “As adults, Ivon started his own business, while my father-in-law founded Kaléido Corp. Over the years, Kaléido thrived while Ivon’s venture floundered. After Ivon’s company folded, he coveted Kaléido, despite already owning shares and holding a senior position there.

  “Around that time, I was eight months pregnant with my son. One day, while running errands, someone pushed me, causing me to fall. I lost consciousness, and a good Samaritan called for an ambulance. I had an emergency C-section. When I awoke, my baby had already been taken.

  “My husband and in-laws were worried sick when I didn’t return home. But, they couldn’t file a missing person’s report until 48 hours had passed. By the time I regained consciousness and contacted my husband, the kidnapper already had more than a day’s head start.

  “We tried our best to locate my son. However, even with police involvement, we couldn’t trace his whereabouts.

  “Upon my discharge, while Angus and I were being driven home, our car was targeted by several unmarked vehicles. We were rammed from behind and pushed into the Potomac River. He shielded me from the impact and has been in a coma ever since.

  “Investigations revealed Ivon orchestrated the kidnapping and the crash. He was convicted of multiple crimes, including attempted murder and abduction. He died in prison recently, but he never revealed where he left my son.”

  Finishing her account, she turned to Seven, her face a whirlwind of hope and uncertainty. “Seven, I know this is a lot to ask, but would you take a DNA test?”

  Seven’s brow furrowed. “A DNA test?”

  Leona’s hands trembled as she explained, “You were born and abandoned around the time my son was taken. And you bear a striking resemblance to Angus. It’s too much of a coincidence.”

  Alain and Amélie gazed intently at him, silently urging him to agree.

  But Seven stared into the distance, dazed. “You think I might be your son?”

  Leona nodded, tears brimming. “It’s a possibility we can’t ignore.”

  Alain interjected, his words thick with emotion. “Seven, your likeness to Angus is uncanny. That’s why I insisted you call me Grandpa when we first met.”

  Amélie placed a comforting hand on Alain’s arm as she added, “If there’s even a chance, we have to know.”

  He pondered in silence. The thought of being someone’s long-lost kin stirred feelings he was unfamiliar with. But he wanted to give them closure, so he agreed. “I’ll take the test, though I don’t believe I’m your son.”

  He plucked several strands of his hair and handed them to Leona.

  Intrigued by his doubt, she inquired, “Why don’t you think you’re my son?”

  “I was told I was abandoned at birth,” he answered simply.

  Leona’s grip tightened on the strands of hair. “Seven, if the results confirm you’re my son, you’ll know you weren’t abandoned.”

  The room fell silent as the gravity of their exchange settled over them. In that shared moment, a fragile hope took root—one that could change their lives forever.