The plastic cordless phone shattered against the kitchen linoleum as Derek Patterson ripped it from Chloe’s hand, crushing the device under his heavy boot.

Back at the grand Westchester estate, the sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon, painting the sky in brilliant shades of gold and amber.

Rachel was still sitting in the library, exhausted from crying, when the heavy oak doors opened and comforting footsteps echoed across the hallway.

James carried Noah into the room, followed closely by Marcus and a private medical team. The little boy was wrapped in a warm cashmere blanket, still clutching his blue security blanket, looking around the palatial room with wide, astonished eyes.

Rachel stood up so fast her chair tipped backward onto the Persian rug. She stared at the little boy in James’s arms, her hands flying to her mouth as a shattered gasp escaped her lips.

“Noah...” she whispered, running across the room and falling to her knees in front of them.

She gently touched the boy’s cheek. Noah looked at her, tilting his head slightly, seeing the same warmth in her eyes that he had seen in his dreams.

“Mama?” he whispered.

Rachel let out a broken sob, pulling both James and Noah into her arms, burying her face in her son’s shoulder. The family was finally complete. Every missing piece, every stolen year, every tear shed in the dark apartment on Cedar Street had led them to this exact moment.

Upstairs, the door to the nursery clicked open.

Eight-year-old Chloe walked out, holding little Tyler by the hand. They peered over the grand staircase railing, watching their parents and their newly found brother embrace in the sunlight below.