One Night Stand With My Ex's Uncle

Catherine suddenly grew quiet, resting her chin on my desk, her expression turning serious. After a moment of silence, she looked up, her eyes betraying uncertainty. "Annie, there’s something I need to tell you."

I was reviewing some documents and responded without looking up. "Go ahead."

"I had some tests done," she said, her tone unusually grave.

This immediately caught my attention.

I set down my papers and leaned forward with concern. "What kind of tests? Are you feeling alright?"

Catherine shrugged, trying to appear casual despite her obvious discomfort.

"Nothing serious. Just had an ultrasound done. And it confirmed something - the scar on my abdomen isn’t from an appendectomy like I’ve always been told. Just like yours, it’s from a C-section."

My heart skipped a beat, and I stared at her in disbelief. "Are you sure about this?"

How could I be wrong? I confirmed it multiple times. The ultrasound technician even pointed out scarring on my uterus." Her voice was steady, but I detected the tremor beneath.

I was momentarily speechless, unsure how to respond.

Catherine spread her hands, attempting to maintain a light tone, though her smile didn’t reach her eyes.

"I don’t understand how this is possible. My memory hasn’t been interrupted - I haven’t experienced any amnesia. Yet I have absolutely no recollection of having a C-section. The appendectomy I somewhat remember, but even those memories are vague."

She looked at me, her eyes filled with confusion and an underlying fear.

"Anna, do I have a child somewhere?

Where would they be?"

I quickly set aside my work and moved to embrace her. Catherine and I became friends when she was already the person she is now. If she truly had a child, it must have happened before we met.

I suddenly remembered how William would sometimes look at me and sigh, mentioning that he also had a beautiful granddaughter. He never elaborated, but thinking back, there was always a pained expression when he spoke of his granddaughter. Based on the timeline, Catherine would have just graduated from college around then.

"Let’s not jump to conclusions. We need to think about this calmly," I said, pouring her a cup of hot tea to soothe her nerves.

Catherine shook her head. "I am calm.

I had the ultrasound last week. I’ve been suspicious ever since I saw your incision."

Her gaze became both distant and determined. "For some reason, Im afraid to ask my mother. But I need to know the truth."

I squeezed her hand, considering how best to help her. "We need to be certain about one thing first - do you really want to uncover a secret that your entire family has gone to such lengths to hide?" I analyzed carefully.

"Given how much your parents adore you, whatever they’re concealing must be serious. This secret could cause you significant pain."

Catherine furrowed her brow, her naturally pleasure-seeking personality showing through. "Painful memories...

I bet some man wronged me." She shook her head, rejecting her own theory. "But why wouldn’t I have kept the child? Someone with my personality would definitely choose to raise my child regardless of the father.

And it’s not like my family couldn’t afford to support another child."

I offered some theories. "Maybe your parents just wanted you to have a fresh start. Or perhaps the father refused to give up custody."

Catherine sighed deeply, her eyes reflecting complex emotions. "I could let it go if I didn’t know, but now that I do..." Her voice became soft yet resolute. "I remember how frantic you were when Benedict went missing. To be honest, I want to find my child too.

If I gave birth to them, I shouldn’t have abandoned them, right?"

I watched her silently. I had my own trauma that I’d chosen not to confront, knowing it existed but avoiding the painful memories. But Catherine’s situation was different - she’d lost an extremely significant part of her life experience.

I understood her feelings, but I was uncertain whether I should encourage her to pursue this. I didn’t want to see my typically carefree and happy friend crushed by painful truths.

Anna’s POV

I stared at the screen of my phone, zooming in on Benedict’s latest photo.

The soft curve of his brow, the gentle slope of his nose I traced them with my fingertip, my heart aching with a familiar emptiness.

"Annie, I keep telling you, these video calls don’t do him justice," I said to Elizabeth, who was folding baby clothes nearby. "Don’t you think he has Marcus’s eyes? There’s something about his expression that feels so familiar."

Elizabeth leaned over, squinting at the screen. "That’s genetics for you. But honestly, I see more of you in him.

Those eyes are pure Shaw-just like yours were at that age."

A pang of longing shot through my chest, sharp and insistent. The weeks since Benedict’s kidnapping and recovery had crawled by at an excruciating pace. November was drawing to a close, and despite Marcus’s promise to return for Thanksgiving, each day felt like an eternity.

"I miss him so much it hurts," I whispered, more to myself than to Elizabeth.

Margaret shuffled into the room, her slippers making soft sounds against the hardwood floor. Despite her age, her eyes remained alert and knowing.

"Which ’him’ are we talking about?

The baby or the father?’

Heat crept up my neck. "Benedict, of course."

Margaret’s knowing smile told me she wasn’t fooled. "Of course," she echoed, the hint of amusement in her voice making me turn away.

Between Elizabeth and Margaret, I barely had a chance to hold Sophia these days. They’d practically taken over the nursery, with Elizabeth even moving a cot in to help Betty with night feedings. My protests fell on deaf ears—they were determined to let me recover fully from my C-section.

"You know," I said, smoothing my blouse over my abdomen, "the doctor says I’m healing exceptionally well. My body’s almost back to normal, except for this little pouch that needs some exercise."

"All in good time," Elizabeth replied, shooting down my subtle hint to take over some baby duties. "You’re still running a corporation, Annie. Let us handle this part."

I sighed, scrolling through more photos Marcus had sent. In the most recent one, he was holding Benedict during what appeared to be a business meeting. The contrast between the powerful businessman and the tender father made my chest tighten with an emotion I couldn’t quite name.

The year-end board meeting had concluded yesterday, and the annual holiday party was behind us. With Shaw Corp’s business temporarily settled, a sudden determination crystallized within me.

"I’ve made a decision," I announced, rising from the sofa. "I’m flying to Oceancrest City tomorrow."

Elizabeth looked up, alarmed. "What?

But Marcus said they’d be home for Thanksgiving."

"That’s still days away. I can’t wait anymore." I was already mentally packing, calculating flight times. "The company’s settled, Sean can handle anything urgent, and I—I just need to see my son."

"Annie, be reasonable," Elizabeth protested, following me toward the stairs. "Marcus gave his word. Why not call him first? You might end up missing them entirely if they’re already preparing to leave."

I shook my head, my decision hardening with each step. "No. I’ve waited long enough."

Before I could reach the stairs, Lily’s voice rang out from the foyer. "Ms. Shaw! Mr. Murphy is back!"

I froze mid-stride, my heart leaping into my throat. _Marcus? Here?_ For a moment, I couldn’t process the words, couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

Elizabeth’s face split into a triumphant smile. "What did I tell you? Oh, my precious grandson is finally home!’

The world seemed to slow as I moved through the hallway toward the great room. And there he stood—Marcus, tall and imposing in a charcoal coat, cradling a small bundle wrapped in a pale blue blanket. His eyes found mine instantly, cutting through the space between us with an intensity that stole my breath.

"Annie," he said, his voice deep and sure, "I promised we’d be home for Thanksgiving."

Elizabeth rushed forward but stopped short of taking the baby. Instead, she beckoned me closer. "Annie, come see your son."

My legs carried me forward on autopilot. Standing before Marcus, I suddenly felt shy, almost nervous. How strange to feel tentative about approaching my own child. With trembling fingers, I pulled back the edge of the blanket.

Benedict’s sleeping face came into view-fuller than before, his skin creamy and perfect. His tiny lips moved in a dreaming suckle, and something inside me melted completely.

"He’s been good the entire journey,"

Marcus murmured, his voice gentler than I’d ever heard it. "Almost like he knew he was coming home to his mother."

The emotion that had been building for months crashed through me in a single overwhelming wave. Without thought or hesitation, I cupped Marcus’s face in my hands and pressed my lips firmly against his, pouring all my longing, gratitude, and love into that single, impulsive kiss.