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"Of course," my mother says.

Jane looks at each of us in turn.

"Whatever any of us feels about Blaire, and I understand the anger, it doesn't belong to those boys. They didn't make any of these choices. All they know is that they've found a man they like who shows up when he says he will, and soon they're going to learn he's their father and that there's an entire family on the other side of the world they've never heard of."

She rests her hand on her stomach again.

"They're children before they're heirs. If we forget that, even for a minute, we become everything she was afraid of."

My mother doesn't answer right away. Then she reaches over and takes Jane's hand.

"You're right," she says. She turns back to me, and I see the steel I remember from the months after my father died, when she held this family together while the rest of us were still learning how to stand.

"Tell Richard and the others to come here tonight. I want to hear what they think needs to happen. And then, Ross, I want to hear what those boys need, because that is what's going to happen."

They arrive by eight, all four of them together, which tells me they spent the afternoon deciding what to say before they came. Richard Voss, who has run the Kensington Family Office for longer than I've been in charge of it. Katherine Wolfe from family counsel. Arthur Langford, our outside trust and estates counsel, carrying the same worn leather folder he brought to the reading of my father's will. And Simone Beaumont, our communications director, with a tablet already open in her hand.

My mother receives them in the dining room and takes the chair at the head of the table, which is not where she usually sits. Nobody comments on it.

Simone goes first. "The story is holding at speculation," she says.

"Nobody has confirmed anything, and our position until tomorrow morning is no comment. But Ms. Wilson's name has been public since yesterday afternoon, and it won't be long before someone finds the boys' names. Once that happens, we'll be managing something much larger."

"Which brings us to security," Richard says. He slides a single page across the table toward me.

"Ms. Wilson and the children are publicly identifiable as of this week. There were photographers at their summer camp yesterday, and there'll be more. I'd recommend a protective detail beginning immediately: a driver, a discreet presence near the home, coordination with the camp, and a review of the residence."

I read the page. It's thorough and sensible, and I would approve it without hesitation if the names at the top belonged to anyone else. I think of Blaire standing in her hallway last night, saying, You'll handle it, as though the words were a threat.

"Approved," I say.

"But nothing about it is invisible to her. She knows who they are, why they're there, and she can call me about any of it at any hour."

Richard nods and makes a note.

Katherine has been waiting. She folds her hands on the table.

"There's also the matter of legal paternity," she says.

"Before the Trust can recognize the children in any capacity, we need confirmation through a DNA test."

Something hot rises in my chest. "They're mine, Katherine."

"No one at this table doubts that," Arthur says gently.

"But the Kensington Family Trust can't operate on resemblance, however striking, or on your certainty, however justified. Recognition, beneficiary status, and their place under the Charter all require documentation. Without it, every decision we make on their behalf can be challenged later, and not necessarily by anyone who has their interests at heart."

I know he's right. I've sat on the other side of this table and said nearly the same thing to other families about other children, and it sounded reasonable every time. It sounds different when the children are mine.

"Fine," I say. "Arrange it. Quietly, and through a pediatric clinic in San Francisco, not a lab that treats them like evidence."

"Of course," Katherine says.

Arthur opens the leather folder.

"Then I'll address succession briefly, since it will be the first question the board asks. You'll remember the provision from your father's instruments. The Kensington Family Trust, the Family Charter, and the Founder's Letter of Wishes all place priority within the senior branch with the firstborn male child of either you or Sebastian." He looks up at me over his glasses.

"Once paternity is confirmed, that child is one of your sons. Birth order between the twins will be established through their birth records."