Once cleaned, the truth was undeniable. Without the grime, Noah and Owen were nearly perfect copies of Ethan—even the tiny birthmarks matched. And there was something else: an invisible thread linking them. They laughed at the same jokes. Reached for the same things at the same time. When one yawned, the others followed.
Dr. Thomas arrived within the hour to collect DNA samples.
“Michael… this can’t be,” he murmured in the playroom. “Laura delivered one child. I reviewed the file myself.”
“Then the file is false,” Michael replied coldly. “Run the tests.”
He didn’t sleep that night. The boys insisted on building a pillow fort and sleeping together. From the hallway, he listened.
“Do you think he’s really our dad?” Noah whispered.
“He smells safe,” Owen said.
“He’s our dad,” Ethan answered firmly. “I knew it the second I saw them.”
Michael pressed his hand to the wall, overwhelmed.
The next morning, Dr. Thomas returned, face pale.
“The DNA confirms it,” he said. “They’re triplets. Ninety-nine point nine percent match.”
Relief washed over Michael—until he saw the doctor hesitate.
“There’s more. Noah and Owen show signs of genetic modification. Experimental markers. They were altered in utero.”