Chapter 6 Ultimate Paternity Recognition, Empire Inheritance

# Chapter 6: Ultimate Paternity Recognition, Empire Inheritance

"You did WHAT?" I stared at my children in horror, then back at the toddler who was now contentedly sucking his pacifier while holding Luna's hand.

"We didn't actually hack your birth control," Justin clarified quickly. "Though I wouldn't put it past them at this point."

"Then who is this child?" I demanded.

Justin motioned for us to step away from little ears. Once we were out of earshot, he ran a hand through his hair—a rare gesture of uncertainty from a man who exuded confidence in every boardroom and press conference.

"His name is James," Justin said softly. "He's two years old. And yes, biologically speaking, he's ours."

"That's impossible," I whispered. "We haven't been together since—"

"Since the night you took my DNA sample," he finished. "The night you said you were on birth control."

Heat rushed to my face. "I was! I've never lied about that."

"I believe you," Justin said, surprising me. "But that doesn't change the fact that James exists."

"How?" I asked, struggling to process this bombshell.

Justin glanced back at the children, who were now showing their apparent brother how to make a tiny snowball. "Remember the fertility clinic where you had the triplets?"

A cold realization washed over me. "You found my leftover embryos."

He nodded. "After the triplets hacked my system, I launched an investigation into you—into everything. It led me to the New Hope Fertility Clinic. They still had three viable embryos from your IVF cycle."

"Those were supposed to be destroyed after five years!"

"Paperwork gets lost when enough money changes hands," Justin said grimly. "Someone recognized your name when the story broke about the triplets. They approached my legal team, looking for a payout to keep quiet."

"So you what? Bought the embryos?"

"I had them secured while I figured out what to do," Justin explained. "But then I discovered something worse—one embryo was already missing."

My knees weakened, and Justin steadied me with a hand on my elbow.

"Someone had already used one of our embryos?" I asked, horrified.

"A wealthy couple from Dubai. They'd been told it was from anonymous donors with exceptional genetic profiles. When I tracked them down, they were understandably shocked."

"So you took their child?" I hissed, appalled.

"I didn't take him," Justin said firmly. "I explained the situation, confirmed paternity, and negotiated. They were compensated extremely generously for their... inconvenience."

"Their inconvenience? They lost their son!"

"They had him for six months, Joan. They're expecting naturally now—twins. And James deserved to be with his biological family, with his siblings."

I couldn't argue with that logic, even through my shock. Looking back at the children, I could see how naturally they had accepted this new addition—this fourth piece of our genetic puzzle.

"You should have told me," I said finally.

"I was going to. That's what the monitor was about—I wanted to suggest we use our remaining embryos together, intentionally this time." He smiled ruefully. "I had a whole speech prepared about doing things right, about being there from the beginning. Then you threw my prototype in the oven."

Despite everything, I felt a laugh bubble up. "That was a bit dramatic of me."

"You've always had a flair for the theatrical," Justin agreed, his eyes warming. "It's one of the things I—"

He stopped himself, but I could fill in the blank. One of the things I love about you. The unspoken words hung between us like the Aurora Australis shimmering overhead.

"So now what?" I asked. "We have four children together. Four brilliant, slightly terrifying children."

Justin's expression turned serious. "Now we figure this out—together. No more running, Joan. No more hiding."

Before I could respond, Claire appeared, looking apologetic. "Sorry to interrupt your family reunion, but we've got a situation. Your helicopter pilot says a storm front is moving in. If you're planning to leave today, it needs to be within the hour."

Justin nodded. "We'll be ready."

"Leave? To go where?" I asked warily.

"Home," Justin said simply. "All of us."

Six weeks later, I stood in the wings of an auditorium at Sarratt Tower, watching Justin prepare to make the most important announcement of his career. The triplets fidgeted in their formal attire beside me, while James dozed in the nanny's arms nearby.

"Are you sure about this?" I whispered to Justin as technicians adjusted his microphone.

"Never been more certain of anything," he replied, surprising me with a quick kiss that still made my heart skip despite everything we'd been through.

So much had changed since Antarctica. We'd returned to a media frenzy, but Justin had managed it with surprising sensitivity, shielding the children while still acknowledging public interest in our unusual family. We'd settled into an uneasy co-parenting arrangement—the children splitting time between my renovated bakery (now a thriving business with a waitlist for orders) and Justin's coastal mansion.

And somewhere along the way, between late-night parenting discussions and watching Justin patiently teach Leo coding ethics, between family breakfasts and Justin showing up with soup when I caught a cold, I'd remembered why I'd fallen for him in the first place.

"It's time," his assistant announced, gesturing toward the stage.

The auditorium was packed with Sarratt Group employees, board members, major shareholders, and media representatives. This was supposed to be the annual company vision presentation, but Justin had other plans.

He strode onto the stage with his characteristic confidence, commanding the room instantly.

"Welcome, everyone. Today marks a significant turning point for Sarratt Group—and for me personally."

The crowd murmured expectantly. Restructuring rumors had been swirling for weeks.

"For fifteen years, I've guided this company with a singular focus on innovation and growth," Justin continued. "That focus has made us leaders in technology, energy, and now," he smiled slightly, "gourmet ice cream."

Appreciative laughter rippled through the audience.

"But recent events have caused me to reevaluate what matters most." Justin's voice softened. "As many of you now know, I've discovered I'm the father of not just the triplets who made headlines by hacking our systems, but a fourth child as well."

All eyes turned toward us in the wings. I felt exposed but stood straighter, protective hand on Luna's shoulder.

"Becoming a father has transformed how I see our company's future," Justin continued. "Today, I'm announcing the establishment of the Sarratt Family Trust, which will hold controlling interest in Sarratt Group moving forward. My children—Leo, Mia, Luna, and James—will be the primary beneficiaries, with a governance structure that ensures they'll guide this company's evolution in the decades to come."

Gasps and whispers filled the room. This was no mere acknowledgment of his heirs—this was Justin restructuring his entire corporate empire around his children.

"But that's not all," Justin smiled. "I've learned that sometimes the best innovations come from unexpected places—and unexpected collaborations."

He gestured toward the wings. "Children, would you join me, please?"

The triplets needed no further encouragement, bounding onto the stage with enthusiasm while I followed more hesitantly with James in my arms.

"Today, I'd like to introduce the newest member of our executive team," Justin announced as we reached him. "Joan Powers, who will be heading our new Family Innovation Division, focusing on technologies that improve family life and child development."

This was news to me. "What are you doing?" I whispered fiercely.

"Improvising," he whispered back with a wink.

Before I could protest further, the children had grabbed the microphone.

"We have an announcement too!" Leo proclaimed.

The audience laughed indulgently, but Justin and I exchanged alarmed glances. This wasn't part of the program.

"We made something special for today," Mia continued proudly.

On cue, the massive screen behind us flickered, and Justin's face appeared—except it wasn't quite Justin. The AI-enhanced version of him began dancing and singing the theme song from a popular children's show about fathers and their children.

The audience roared with laughter as digital Justin performed increasingly ridiculous dance moves, his face perfectly mapped onto what was clearly a professional dancer's body. I covered my mouth, torn between horror and hysterical laughter.

The real Justin stood frozen beside me, for once completely blindsided. "How did they—"

"Your children," I reminded him. "Your DNA."

As the performance concluded to thunderous applause, Justin recovered admirably, taking the microphone back from the beaming triplets.

"As you can see," he said dryly, "creativity and technological aptitude run in the family. Though we may need to have another conversation about appropriate uses of AI technology."

The presentation continued more conventionally after that, with Justin outlining the company's strategic direction and introducing key executives. Throughout it all, the children remained remarkably well-behaved, basking in the attention and occasionally whispering among themselves in that secret language they'd developed.

It wasn't until the reception afterward that I noticed Luna looking pale and uncomfortable.

"Are you feeling okay, sweetie?" I asked, pressing a hand to her forehead.

"My tummy feels funny," she admitted.

Justin was immediately at our side, concern etched on his features. "What's wrong?"

"Luna's not feeling well," I explained. "I should take her home."

"I'll come with you," he said without hesitation, already signaling for his security team to prepare for departure.

In the car, Luna curled against me, her small body radiating unusual heat.

"She's burning up," I told Justin, worry creeping into my voice.

He reached over to feel her forehead, his expression grim. "We should take her to the hospital, just to be safe."

Luna's eyes fluttered open. "No hospital," she protested weakly. "I'm okay."

"You're not okay, sweetheart," I insisted. "You have a fever."

"It's just morning sickness," she mumbled.

Justin and I froze, exchanging panicked glances.

"What did you say?" Justin asked carefully.

Luna's eyes widened as she realized what she'd said. "I mean... I feel sick this morning."

"Luna," I used my no-nonsense mother voice. "Why did you say 'morning sickness'?"

She bit her lip, then sighed dramatically. "It was supposed to be a surprise."

"What was supposed to be a surprise?" Justin pressed.

"That Mommy's having another baby," Luna said, as if it were obvious. "We've been monitoring her hormone levels."

"You've been WHAT?" I gasped.

"We put sensors in your prenatal vitamins," she explained, looking far too pleased with herself despite her fever. "The ones Daddy's been giving you."

I whipped around to face Justin. "You've been giving me prenatal vitamins?"

He looked genuinely shocked. "They were regular multivitamins! From the organic market you like!"

"We switched them," Luna admitted. "And we might have adjusted your birth control app to show the wrong days."

My hand instinctively went to my stomach. "That's impossible. I can't be—"

"Six weeks pregnant," Luna supplied helpfully. "Since Antarctica."

Antarctica. Where Justin and I had reconciled in a rather... enthusiastic manner after the children were asleep. Multiple times.

"We should get a test," Justin said, his voice strangely hoarse. "To be sure."

Three pregnancy tests later, there was no denying it. Our little hackers had done it again.

"Five," Justin murmured as we sat in stunned silence in the bathroom of his penthouse. "We're going to have five children."

I couldn't help it—I started laughing. Great, gasping laughs that soon had tears streaming down my face.

"What's so funny?" Justin asked, looking concerned for my sanity.

"Your face," I managed between laughs. "The great Justin Sarratt, outplayed by a bunch of kindergartners."

His lips twitched, and soon he was laughing too, pulling me into his arms as our mirth echoed off the marble tiles.

"They're unstoppable together," he said when we finally calmed down. "God help the world when they're teenagers."

"God help us now," I corrected. "We're the ones who have to raise them."

Justin's expression turned serious as he placed a gentle hand on my still-flat stomach. "We'll do it together," he said softly. "If you'll have me."

This time, when he asked the question with his eyes, I didn't run or throw appliances. I simply nodded, leaning into his embrace.

"What should we name this one?" Justin asked, his lips against my hair.

"Firewall," I suggested with a straight face. "Since that's apparently what we need and don't have."

His laughter rumbled against my cheek. "Perfect."

One year later, at the grand opening of the renamed "Mama's Innovation Center"—my bakery-turned-tech-incubator specializing in family-oriented startups—we gathered for little Phoebe Firewall Sarratt's naming ceremony. ("Firewall" had thankfully been relegated to middle name status after considerable negotiation.)

The event was being live-streamed to Sarratt Group offices worldwide, a new tradition Justin had started to make company milestones more family-oriented. The triplets, now six and already fluent in three programming languages, took their roles as older siblings very seriously, while two-year-old James toddled after them adoringly.

"She looks like you," Justin murmured, watching Luna carefully show Phoebe to the gathered guests.

"Poor thing," I teased, leaning into his side.

"I think she lucked out," he countered, pressing a kiss to my temple.

Our domestic moment was interrupted by a commotion at the back of the room. Leo was furiously typing on a tablet while Mia whispered instructions in his ear.

"What are they doing?" Justin asked suspiciously.

"Nothing good," I predicted, already moving toward them.

I arrived just in time to see Leo hit "execute" on whatever program he'd been coding. "What did you just do?" I demanded.

"It's Phoebe's present!" Mia announced proudly. "Look!"

She pointed to the large screen that had been set up for the live stream. Instead of showing our celebration, it now displayed a real-time image of the moon's surface, where a message was being projected in massive letters visible from Earth:

"SARRATT FAMILY OCCUPATION OF EARTH: PROGRESS 50%"

"Tell me that's not really visible from Earth," I pleaded.

"Only with medium-powered telescopes," Leo assured me. "We hacked into NASA's lunar projection system."

Justin had joined us, his expression torn between pride and horror. "You hacked NASA? For a baby naming ceremony?"

"We wanted to make it special," Luna explained, as if this were the most reasonable thing in the world.

Justin pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'll call the NASA administrator. Again."

As he stepped away to damage-control yet another federal offense committed by our children, I gathered the triplets close.

"You know," I said conversationally, "most kids just give their baby sisters teddy bears."

"Boring," all three declared in unison.

Looking around at our strange, brilliant family—Justin smoothly placating what was probably the head of national security on the phone, James constructing an improbably complex structure with building blocks, Phoebe contentedly sleeping through her own lunar debut—I couldn't help but smile.

Five years ago, I'd been a single mother hiding in a small town, running a modest bakery, protecting my children from a world I thought would never understand them. Now I stood at the center of a technological empire, married to the man I'd once run from, mother to five extraordinary children who would undoubtedly continue hacking their way through life's obstacles.

"Mom," Leo tugged at my sleeve, interrupting my thoughts. "What should we hack next?"

I ruffled his hair affectionately. "How about we try not hacking anything for a while? At least until your father finishes apologizing to NASA."

All three looked at me with identical expressions of disappointment.

"But we already planned our next project," Mia protested. "We're going to rename the family company."

"To what?" I asked warily.

Luna smiled, that sweet, angelic smile that always preceded her most outrageous ideas.

"Mama's Hacker Empire," she announced proudly. "We've already filed the paperwork."