For eight years, I raised them alone.
Our life had finally found its rhythm, quiet and steady, until the day the past came knocking and tried to take everything from me.
“Please don’t do this, Jace,” I said, standing beside her as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. “Marrying Tor is a mistake.”
She turned toward me in her wedding dress, her eyes already glassy with tears. The lace sleeves slipped down her arms. She looked thinner than she should have, fragile in a way that scared me.
“You don’t understand,” she whispered. “I love him. He messes up, but he always comes back.”
I reached up and smoothed the crease between her brows—the same one I used to fix when we were kids after she cried. “He keeps leaving,” I said gently. “Marriage won’t change that.”
She grabbed my hands. “Please. Even if you don’t believe in him, believe in me.”
So I nodded. I was her older brother. Protecting her was written into my bones.
Jace and I had always been opposites. She dreamed of noise and laughter, a crowded house full of children. Even as a little girl, she lined up her dolls and pretended to scold them lovingly.
I wanted freedom—travel, money, someday opening an animal shelter. No heavy ties. No chaos.
But Jace was my exception. My little sister. My responsibility.
After the wedding, everything unfolded exactly as I feared.
Tor drifted in and out of her life like a tide that never settled. He disappeared when things got hard, then returned with flowers and promises.
“He’s trying,” Jace would say over coffee in their cramped apartment. “He just needs time.”
“He’s almost thirty,” I replied once. “Time for what?”
She always changed the subject.
When pregnancy didn’t come, each negative test took something from her. She worked double shifts. She paid for IVF herself. Tor showed up only when required—and left again immediately after.
“It’s how he deals with pressure,” she said, making excuses for him even then.
Then the call came.
“Triplets,” she cried into the phone. “I’m finally going to be a mom.”
I smiled, then felt fear crawl into my chest. Three babies. One exhausted woman. One unreliable husband.
“Is Tor happy?” I asked.
The silence answered for her.
He vanished shortly before the birth. Three children didn’t fit his plans. He wanted his freedom. His life.
At thirty-two weeks, Jace went into labor.
I drove her to the hospital as alarms echoed down the halls. I heard one fragile cry… then chaos.
Her hand slipped from mine as doctors rushed in. Words blurred together. Heart rate. Emergency.
She was gone before I could say goodbye.
Two of the babies survived. Three little girls were all she left behind.
Tor was already gone for good. New number. New city. No answers.
So I became their father.
I adopted them. I named them Cove, Nia, and Elle—the names Jace had written in her notebook, surrounded by hearts.
My old dreams faded quietly. In their place came school lunches, scraped knees, late-night nightmares, and laughter.
We took road trips. Ate too much fast food. Volunteered at the animal shelter on weekends.
We were a family.
For eight years, I believed we were safe.
Then one afternoon, a car stopped outside our gate.
I expected a delivery.
Instead, the man who abandoned my sister stepped out.
Tor smiled as if he belonged there, holding gifts and flowers. Two large men stood behind him, silent and watchful.
He ignored me and knelt in front of the girls.
“Hello, my beautiful daughters,” he said softly. “Come with me. I want to show you something.”
My blood ran cold.
The men blocked my path without touching me. “Let’s keep this simple,” one warned.
“I’m your father,” Tor said calmly. “I’ve come for you.”
“Girls, get back!” I shouted.
They hesitated. He used it.
“I want to make things right,” he said. “Just come with me.”
Then a voice rang out from the gate.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Our neighbor stood there, eyes wide, as the girls ran to her for safety.
Tor’s smile cracked. “There’s an inheritance,” he snapped. “I need custody.”
That was it.
He grabbed two of them. They screamed.
I fought through, standing between him and my children.
“You left them,” I said. “They are mine.”
Police sirens filled the air.
When officers arrived, they asked one question.
“Are you their parent?”
“Yes,” I answered without hesitation.
Tor was taken away, shouting about rights and money.
I held my girls as they shook.
“Are we safe?” Cove asked.
“Yes,” I said. “You’re safe.”
“You’re our dad,” Elle whispered.
And in that moment, I knew—nothing could ever take them from me again.
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