PART 2: Snow was already drifting across the Colorado landscape when our SUV turned onto the private road leading toward the Ashford estate on Christmas Eve. The boys became unusually quiet as we approached. Tall pine trees lined both sides of the road. Small American flags had been positioned carefully along the drive, while warm Christmas lights wrapped around trees and illuminated the stone entrance ahead.
Through the enormous glass panels, we could already see the celebration underway. Dozens of guests filled the rooms. A magnificent Christmas tree, nearly twelve feet tall, stood in the center of the main hall. Mason pressed his face closer to the window and gave a low whistle. “This place looks like a museum.”
“Please do not touch anything that looks older than Grandma,” Reid whispered. Owen giggled. I tried not to.
My hands were shaking. Not because I still loved Grant — that part of my life had ended years earlier. I was shaking because four children were about to meet a family that should have known them from the beginning.
When the front doors opened, Grant’s mother, Evelyn Ashford, appeared first. Her smile disappeared immediately. She looked at me. Then at Carter. Then Mason. Then Reid. Then Owen. All four boys had Grant’s unmistakable gray eyes.
For several seconds, Evelyn said nothing. Behind her, conversations gradually stopped.
Grant appeared at the far end of the hall wearing his dress uniform. His fiancee, Natalie, stood beside him in an elegant dark green dress. Grant smiled when he first saw me. Then he noticed the children. The smile vanished.
Carter looked at me once. I nodded. He stepped forward. “Are you Grant Ashford?” Grant swallowed. “Yes.”
Carter studied his face. Then he asked calmly, “Are you the man who told everyone we weren’t real?”
The entire room went silent.
Read Part 3 below for the ending. 
