Minutes later, the cold, metallic click of handcuffs echoed in the room as they were snapped onto Susan’s wrists. “Don’t think for a second that I’ll be inside for long, Arthur,” she sneered at him, her eyes blazing with hatred. “I have the very best lawyers money can buy, all thanks to your dear daddy’s very generous safety net.” “I really wouldn’t count on that if I were you,” Arthur replied, his voice perfectly calm. “I’ve already called them—they’ve all refused to touch a case involving the proven killer of my father. And since we are legally no longer family, Susan, the very best you can hope for now is a public defender. And from what I hear, they’re not so great.”
Susan could only snarl in incoherent fury as the police firmly led her away to a waiting squad car. The ambulance arrived soon after, and Oliver was carefully loaded onto a stretcher and taken away. Doctors would successfully remove the bullet that his own mother had fired before handing him over to the authorities to face his own charges.
The subsequent police investigation uncovered a treasure trove of evidence, including deleted messages from a secret chat on Susan’s phone, where she and Oliver had meticulously arranged the alleyway attack and the brake sabotage on Arthur’s car, using a shady driver their father had previously fired. That evidence, combined with the actual knife used in the attack, which still had the driver’s fingerprints on it and which Oliver had foolishly stored in his safe, ensured that both Susan and her accomplice son would be facing very long prison sentences. Oliver, after recovering from his injury, fully confessed to his role, hoping for some small measure of leniency, but his testimony only served to strengthen the prosecution’s already ironclad case.
As for Lauren, the police caught her just in the nick of time at Philadelphia International Airport, as she was trying to flee the country under a fake passport. During her intensive questioning, the full, horrifying scope of her crimes emerged. She was, as Arthur and I had suspected, a serial poisoner. Beyond her attempt on Oliver, she was linked to multiple other murders, including the killing of my husband, Victor Thompson. Lauren’s method was always the same: she would gain a wealthy man’s trust, often posing as a devoted fiancée, and then she would poison them with a potent, hard-to-trace toxin supplied by her own brother, who was a chemist. He also helped her launder all the stolen money into secret Swiss accounts, leaving behind almost no financial trail.
Lauren, just like Susan and Oliver, would finally face the justice she so richly deserved, spending the rest of her life not in luxury, but in a cramped, lonely prison cell. Once Lauren’s extensive crimes were brought to light, Arthur worked tirelessly with his lawyers to clear my name. He succeeded in having every single charge against me officially dropped and expunged from my record, finally restoring my reputation to a clean slate.
My joy was indescribable, a feeling so profound it was almost overwhelming, when I learned that I was officially free of the “ex-convict” label that had haunted me for so long. I thanked Arthur with all my heart, knowing I could never truly repay him for what he had done. I continued working at his home for a while, helping with light household tasks until it was finally time for me to give birth. Unfortunately, without access to proper ultrasounds during my time in prison, I had no idea that I was carrying not one, but two babies. The delivery was long and grueling, but I persevered with a strength I didn’t know I had, and I gave life to two perfectly healthy, beautiful boys. I named them Anthony and Vincent, after my own grandfathers on both sides of my family.
Arthur happily supported me, the new mother, throughout my recovery in the hospital, bringing in bags full of supplies for me and the newborns. One day, just before I was due to be discharged, he was helping me bathe the boys and he noticed something peculiar. Both Anthony and Vincent had identical, small birthmarks on the right side of their bodies. He looked closer, and then he realized with a start that he had the exact same mark, the same distinctive shape and size, in the very same location. Knowing this couldn’t possibly be a simple coincidence, he ventured a hesitant question. “Julia, what was the name of your second fiancé? The guard at the prison?”
“His name was Daniel,” I replied, surprised by the strange question. “Why do you ask?” “Julia, this might sound a little odd,” Arthur began, choosing his words carefully, “but would you allow me to run a DNA test on the boys? I have a strong feeling that I might be related to them in some way.” I was rocking my twins in my hospital bed, and I froze at his strange request. “Why would you think that?” I asked, completely bewildered.
“Well, the truth is, I grew up in an orphanage here in Philadelphia until I was about five years old,” he explained, his voice taking on a distant, thoughtful tone. “I barely remember it because I was adopted so quickly by the Stevens family, but these specific birthmarks… they’re a unique genetic trait that runs in a particular family…”
Stunned into silence, I agreed to the DNA test, but when the results came back, they only left me more baffled than before. Arthur was indeed biologically related to my sons, closely—the report suggested he was possibly their cousin. Not satisfied with that, Arthur hired two private investigators to dig deep into the mysteries of his own childhood, and a month later, they delivered news that was nothing short of shocking. Arthur was, in fact, the full biological brother of Daniel, the prison guard who had once planned a whole future with me.
The two brothers had been separated as very young children due to their neglectful and unstable mother, who had chosen to raise only Daniel, cruelly abandoning Arthur at a Philadelphia orphanage, where he lived until he was adopted by the wealthy Stevens family. Over time, as I settled into a new, peaceful life in Arthur’s home, the two of us slowly began to explore the possibility of a relationship.
It wasn’t a sudden, fiery passion, but something deeper and more steadfast—a profound bond built on shared trauma, mutual respect, and a deep, abiding affection. Arthur admired my courage and selflessness, and he could easily picture me as his wife and partner for life. I was endlessly grateful for all he had done for me and for my sons, whom Arthur, as their biological uncle, promptly and joyfully adopted as his own…
