Erased Identity

On my daughter’s sixth birthday, just as I was about to cut the cake, an

emergency call from my department head shattered the moment. I had to get back

to the ER, immediately.

He said the patient was the son of a Manhattan heiress, in shock from an acute

asthma attack. He insisted I handle it personally, that there could be no

mistakes.

I pulled on my gloves, a bitter laugh caught in my throat. The Manhattan

heiress… wasn't that my wife of eight years, Seraphina Croft?

But we only had one child, an eight-year-old daughter. Where did a

three-year-old son come from?