There was a long period of silence in which all eyes in the room were on Izik Morin. He could feet heat radiating from the back of his neck, years of anger rising to the surface as he took a step forward. "Tell them the truth, Father," he said as he stared at Patrick King.

"What is he talking about?" Cayden questioned as he looked to his father for an answer. He didn’t understand why this stranger was standing in his living room calling Patrick his father.

"Oh my God," Victoria said with shock as she glanced from the young boy to her ex-husband. She shook her head with disbelief. "Patrick," she said, reminding herself to breath. "Is he?"

Patrick glanced from Cayden to Victoria, then finally stared at Izik Morin. "This is Izik," he said softly as he motioned to the boy. "He’s my son."

"He’s your what?" Cayden questioned as he took a step forward. "I don’t understand."

"What is there to understand?" Victoria questioned as she came to the realization that Patrick King was never the man she thought he was. "Your father has another child," she explained, "who is quite obviously younger than you, Cayden."

"So then . . ." Cayden said as he glanced from his father to the boy standing in his living. "You’re not serious," he said as he began to shake his head.

"Cayden," Szymon Skubisz said as he approached his boyfriend. He hated to see what Patrick was doing to him and wanted to step in somehow and put an end to things. "Try to calm down."

"Don’t tell me to calm down, Szymon," Cayden said as he stepped away from his boyfriend. "My father is a cheating son of a bitch," he added as he pointed his finger directly into his father’s face. Patrick could only glance away.

"At least you had a father," Izik interjected, anger seeping into his every word. "At least you got to know him. I bet you didn’t even have to ask him for anything, did you?" Izik questioned. "I bet you got whatever you wanted, isn’t that right."

"Izik, please," Patrick said as he stepped forward.

"Don’t tell me what to do," Izik Morin yelled, catching Patrick off-guard. He stopped in his tracks, staring at his younger son. "You lost that right when you left me. You don’t get to step in and play the father now," Izik reminded him.

"How?" Victoria King asked as she stepped forward. "When?" She was at a loss for words as she stared into her ex-husband’s eyes, searching for an answer. Patrick remained silent.

"I was born on January 29th, 1992," Izik Morin answered for his father, "in Albany, New York."

"Albany?" Victoria gasped. "Albany," she repeated. "You told me that you went to Albany for work, for business meetings. The whole time you were shacking up with someone else? How long did this go on?" She questioned with disbelief. "Who is she?"

"My Mother’s name is Kimberly Morin," Izik said, realizing that Patrick could not bring himself to tell the truth even when his lies had finally been exposed. "And yes, it started as a business meetings," Izik explained. "But then something happened, didn’t it Dad? Your meetings turned into something more and eventually the two of you started to have an affair. It probably came as a surprise to you when my mother got pregnant, didn’t it?" Izik questioned.

"Izik, stop it," Patrick said.

"Why?" Izik inquired. "They might as well know the truth about you. I was seven years old when you stopped coming," Izik explained. "I had no idea what happened, you came for a visit and then you were gone and you never came back. I thought I did something wrong," he explained. "I thought it was all my fault."

"This is . . . I don’t know what the hell to make of this," Victoria said as she shook her head. She glanced at Patrick. For some reason, she couldn’t take her eyes off of him. "How could you do this, Patrick?" She questioned. "Were we not enough for you? Was I not enough for you? I knew you cheated on me all those years ago, but I had no idea about this," she said as she motioned to Izik.

She turned to Izik Morin. "It’s one thing to know that you cheated on me Patrick, but it’s another thing entirely to have a living, breathing reminder of it," she said.

Szymon Skubisz had no idea what was going on. All he knew was that he needed to be there for Cayden, and that was were he stood, beside the man that he loved, but when his phone rang, everyone in the room turned to stare at him and he felt that he didn’t belong.

"I’m sorry," he said as he reached for the phone. He glanced down at it and turned to Cayden. "It’s Cici," he said.

"Answer it," Cayden said with a nod. Szymon could see that his boyfriend was in shock.

"Cici?" Szymon said quickly, "This is not really a good time . . . What? Oh my God, I’ll be right there," Szymon said as he snapped his cell phone shut. "I’m sorry, Cayden. I have to go. Sammy’s in the emergency room."

"Is he okay?" Cayden questioned.

"I don’t know, but I have to run. Are you going to be okay?" He questioned.

"Of course he’s going to be okay," Victoria said sarcastically, although she didn’t mean to take it out on Szymon. "We’re all family here, aren’t we Patrick?"

Louisa Mulberry sat comfortably on the couch in her living room watching her daytime soap operas that she had recorded on her DVR. Beside her, she had a bottle of wine and a plate of cheese, two of her most favorite things in the entire world.

Moderation. That was what the doctor told her. He said, "Louisa, you can still enjoy a glass of wine with moderation."

"To hell with moderation," Louisa Mulberry said aloud as she lifted the bottle of wine to her lips and knocked it back. Pulling it away, she chuckled. There was nothing better than curling up on the couch with some good booze and three hours worth of saved "General Hospital" episodes.

"Let’s see what Sonny’s up to now," she said as she pressed the play button. As she did, she heard a knock at the door and with a sigh, she hit the exit button on her remote control, switching back to live television. She heard a second knock.

"Hold on," Mrs. Mulberry said, "I can only walk so damned fast." She reached the door a few moments later and unlocked it. Pulling it open she peered at the person in the hall. "Well it’s about damned time, Cassie!" Mrs. Mulberry said as she pulled the door open the rest of the way and stood aside.

"I’m sorry that it took so long," Cassandra Mulberry said as she stepped into the apartment and gave her mother-in-law a big hug, "but I had to stop and see my mother before coming here."

"And how is she?" Mrs. Mulberry inquired.

"She has no idea who I am," Cassandra responded. "She kept asking me for Cassie."

"Poor woman," Mrs. Mulberry said softly.

"I thought that she recognized me for a moment, but then it was gone. The nurse says she calls out my name all the time. It’s enough to break your heart."

"It’s Alzheimer’s," Mrs. Mulberry said, "what do you expect?"

"Well, I see you’re as tactful as ever," Cassandra noted. "So, what exactly has my daughter been up to lately," she inquired.

"Your daughter is up to no good," Mrs. Mulberry said as she sat down on the couch and searched for the remote.

"Tell me something new, Louisa," Cassandra sighed. "You said she was dating a cop? What’s so wrong with that?" She questioned.

"Shh," Mrs. Mulberry said as a news report came on. She raised the volume.

"The body of the man found floating in the river today has been revealed to be David Brooks," Eve Myers said with a smile as she stared straight at the camera. The picture on the screen changed to a shaky hand-held camera shot of investigators searching for evidence by the side of the river. "Brooks was reported missing three months ago. With me is homicide detective Joseph Lester," Eve said.

"We can confirm that the body is that of one Mr. David Brooks, but that is all we are prepared to release at the moment," the man said before turning and stepping away from the camera. The picture flashed back to Eve Myers’ face and she resumed speaking. "Police are not saying who is responsible, sources close to the bureau state that this murder could be mob-related."

Mrs. Mulberry hit the rewind button on her remote control and marveled at how amazing it was to have a DVR. She hit the pause button and turned toward her daughter-in-law. "That’s the problem," she said, her face serious.

"What?" Cassandra said as she glanced at the television screen.

"That’s your daughter’s boyfriend," Mrs. Mulberry announced. "His name is Detective Joseph Lester and he’s investigating the mob. Your daughter is dangerously close to ruining everything that you and I worked so hard to protect, Cassandra."

"Baby, come sit down next to Big Mama," Dorthea James said as she sat down on the couch and began to pat the seat cushion beside her. Devon glanced at her mother, eyes wide with worry, but reluctantly walked over toward her.

"Let me look at you," Gloria Matthews said as she stood opposite her son and checked him out. "Well, you don’t look like a drug addict," she mentioned.

"I love you too, Mama," Gage said as he rolled his eyes.

"Mama, what are you doing here?" Devon questioned as she sat beside her mother.

"I am here to see you," Dorthea responded. A moment later, she reached forward and smacked her daughter upside the head. "Are you a damned fool?" Dorthea inquired. Devon stared at her mother with a shocked expression on her face.

"Mama, what the hell!?" Devon shouted.

"Don’t you talk to me like that," Dorthea demanded, "I am your Mama and you will show me some respect," she declared. "Speaking of which, why in the hell did I have to hear that my baby was pregnant from Johanna Leonard instead of from you?" She questioned, fully expecting a reasonable answer.

"This is the girl you’ve been talking about?" Gloria Matthews questioned with shock. This is the girl carrying your child? Gage, I knew you were a fool, but I didn’t think you were a damned fool," Gloria noted.

"Excuse me?" Dorthea questioned as she glanced over at Gloria and her son. "Do you have something to say about my daughter, Gloria?" She stood up from the couch and took a step in Gloria’s direction. Devon glanced at Gage with surprised and he backed away from the two women as they descended upon one another. He fled to the safety of the couch and sat beside Devon.

"Do you have something to say about my daughter?" Dorthea repeated.

"Oh please," Gloria harrumphed, as if she were too good to answer a simple question. She glanced away from the woman, choosing to ignore her tedious, bothersome questions.

"Oh please what?" Dorthea persisted.

"Oh Dorthea please!" Gloria said with exasperation. "You’ve been hounded me the entire trip from Albany. Just shut your mouth already and be gone!" She demanded.

"Be gone?" Dorthea questioned with a chuckle as she glanced back at her daughter. "This crazy Bitch," she said with disbelief. Gage stood up to defend his mother, but Devon grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back to the safety of the couch.

"This is going to be ugly," she whispered.

"Very nice," Gloria said as she shook her head. "I can see that your vocabulary is limited to just a few words, so I will talk as simply as possible. Go away," she enunciated, "and take your trashy daughter with you."

"Look, I don‘t know who the hell you think you are, but don‘t come up in my house calling me trash!" Devon said with disbelief as she stood up from the couch.

"Gage!" Gloria shouted. "Are you going to stand there and let this . . . girl . . . speak to me like that?" Gloria eyed her son very carefully, waiting to see what he would do. Gage was quite familiar with the look on his mother’s face. It was the look he always got when he knew that she expected him to do something. He was hesitant, but he stood up.

"Devon, please don’t talk to my mother like that," he said softly.

"Are you kidding me?" Devon questioned. "She just called me trash," she said as she pointed to the woman.

"Devon, please . . . she’s my mother," Gage reminded her.

Devon stared at Gage for a moment, then shook her head. "Fine," she said as she sat back down on the couch. "But I can only hold my tongue for so long."

"Thank you," Gage said as he returned to her side.

Dorthea watched in shock as Gage Matthews effectively shut her daughter down and made her feel horrible for standing up for herself. "Devon," Gloria said as she glared at Gage. "Stand up," she demanded. "Don’t you ever let a man tell you to sit down when that is clearly not what you intend to do," she said.

Devon paused for a moment and glanced at Gage.

"I said stand up!" Dorthea demanded. "Don’t you sit down and shut up and let a man make you feel horrible for standing up for yourself."

"Wait a second, Mrs. James," Gage said as he stood up. "That’s not what . . ."

"Was I talking to you, young man?" Dorthea questioned. "Did I address you at any point during this conversation with my daughter? Perhaps you’d be wise to keep your own mouth shut and leave this here business to grown folks," she said.

"You can’t be serious about this Gage," Gloria said as she addressed her son. "This girl will only bring you down. I mean look at her, she’s common . . . she’s beneath you, and she’s a liar."

"Don’t you dare call my daughter a liar," Dorthea said.

"Why not?" Gloria questioned. "That’s what she is, isn’t she? She’s obviously quite far along in this pregnancy and she never told you. I’m sorry if it hurts your feelings, Dorthea, but your daughter is a liar. Gage," she said as she glanced back at her son, "you’ve made yet another bad choice in a string of bad choices, but I am here to put an end to that."

"Mama, I’m in love with her, and she’s in love with me."

"And the two of you are completely deluded!" Gloria announced. "Let me ask you a question, Devon. Is my son honest with you? He’s never been capable of being honest with anyone. He’s not in love with you. My son is a user," Gloria explained. "He uses people, he uses alcohol and he uses drugs," she announced.

"Devon," Dorthea gasped, "you got pregnant by a drug addict!?"

"No Mama," Devon responded.

"I haven’t used drugs in months," Gage explained.

"Then it’s gambling," Gloria said with a nod. "That must be the reason."

"The reason for what?" Devon questioned.

"The reason my son called me two days ago and asked me to send him twenty-five-thousand dollars as soon as possible," Gloria Matthews responded.

Sarah Mulberry stepped off of the elevator on the eighth floor and fished around in her purse for her keys. She had run into Elijah and Nicolae in the lobby of the building and the two of them had informed her that the party was cancelled on account of Patrick King’s arrival. She was curious to find out what king of drama Cayden’s father had created for them now.

Sarah loved drama. She loved to hear it and to create it, but she especially loved it when it was someone else’s drama, something she didn’t have to deal with. She found her keys just as she got to her door and unlocked it.

"Grandmother, I hope you like white zinfandel," she said as she shut the door behind her after entering the apartment. "I think that’s the one you drink," she said as she glanced up and paused at the sight of her mother sitting in the living room. "Mom," she said softly.

"Hello Darling," Cassandra Mulberry said as she stood up from the couch and crossed over toward her daughter. She pulled Sarah in for an embrace and smiled. "It’s wonderful to see you again," she said. "It’s been far too long since the last time I’ve seen you."

With shock, Sarah took a step back. "What are you doing here?" She questioned. "The last time we saw each other, we were shouting at the top of our lungs."

"Oh Darling please," Cassandra said as she reached for the bottle of wine. "That nonsense? It’s over and done with now," she said as she stepped into the kitchen and put the bottle on the counter and returned to the living room.

"Grandmother?" Sarah questioned as she glanced at Mrs. Mulberry, trying to find an answer to her mother’s surprise visit. "What the hell is she doing here?"

"Sarah!" Cassandra said with shock.

Mrs. Mulberry glanced at her granddaughter suspiciously. She moved her eyes to Cassandra, then back to Sarah. "Your mother is here to see you," Mrs. Mulberry explained. "So stop acting like an ass."

"I’m sorry," Sarah apologized, "it’s just that the last time I was with her, she said some horrible things." Sarah paused for a moment and turned to her mother. "What do you want? That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? You want something from me. So what is it this time?"

"Sarah, I know you and your mother have your problems," Mrs. Mulberry said, not expecting a reaction like this from her granddaughter, "but she is here in your best interests."

"My best interests?" Sarah questioned with a chuckle. "She doesn’t know what my best interests are, she never did."

"Sarah, please," Cassandra began.

"Just tell me," Sarah said as she crossed her arms. She didn’t want her mother to come any closer to her.

"I came to make up with you, Sarah. I don’t like the way we left things. We both said some things that I’m sure we now regret. We said some things out of anger that weren’t necessarily true."

"Everything I said was the truth," Sarah admitted.

"Sarah, please," Cassandra began. "We both know that isn’t the case," she explained. "However, I am willing to get passed what happened and try to make things right. I want you to come back to Albany with me," she explained.

Sarah stared at her mother with surprise. She shook her head and the only thing she could think of to do was laugh, and so she did. She laughed in her mother’s face.

"Sarah please, don’t be rude," Cassandra said.

"What the hell is so funny?" Mrs. Mulberry questioned.

"She is," Sarah said as she pointed to her mother. "She’s ridiculous if she thinks for one second that I’d go back to Albany with her."

"Why is that so ridiculous?" Mrs. Mulberry questioned. "The way I see it, it’s the best possible decision that you could make. I mean, you’re not really doing anything for yourself here, Sarah. You have a job at a convenience store. You make next to nothing. Moving back to Albany could open up a world of options for you. Your father’s connections alone could open up new opportunities."

"I don’t need any of my father’s connections, thank you very much," Sarah said as she shot a cold glance at her mother. "I am not moving back to Albany, and that’s final," Sarah said as she started for the bedroom.

"That’s always been your problem," Cassandra said as her daughter began to walk way. "You’ve never been able to stick it out. When things get tough, you just run away."

"Excuse me?" Sarah questioned as she turned around to face her mother.

"You thrive on other people’s pain, but when it comes to facing your own problems, you run away. You can’t deal with it so you flee. It’s what you’ve always done. It’s what you did when you left Albany and it’s what you’re doing now."

"Don’t you dare talk to me about pain," Sarah said. "You have no idea what pain really is. When was the last time you’ve had to deal with pain?" Sarah inquired. "All you ever do is sit in that house and bake and decorate and throw parties. You’re a fake, Mother, a phony. You don’t know what pain is. You don’t even know what real life is."

"I know more than you think," Cassandra restored. "More than you will ever know."

For the first time in quite a while, Louisa Mulberry realized that she had no idea what was going on. She didn’t like being left out of the loop. She prided herself on knowing everything, even things people didn’t think she really knew, but at the moment, she had no idea what was happening. She stood up from the couch.

"Ladies, let’s just calm down for a moment, here," she said.

"I’ll be calm when she’s gone," Sarah responded.

"You’ve never known when to leave well enough alone," Cassandra commented. "I can see you haven’t changed a bit since you left," she explained.

"Neither have you," Sarah explained. "You still live in a glass house, and even though you can see what goes on around you, you still like to act like you’re completely unaware," she said as she changed her mind and turned away from the bedroom and left the apartment.

"So that’s why you’re really here, isn’t it?" Victoria King questioned. "You don’t really want us to be a family again. You came because you know that Izik was headed her and you wanted to get here and do damage control before he did, isn’t that right?"

"No," Patrick King said, shaking his head. "I had no idea that Izik was on his way here. I didn’t even know that he knew where Cayden lived," he explained. "I came here because I want us to be a family again," he explained.

"What about you?" Cayden interjected and he addressed Izik. "Why did you come here?" He couldn’t help but to feel a little angry with the young man who had just blown his life apart.

"Because of you," Izik responded. "Because I wanted to see for myself why my father abandoned me," he explained.

"So take a good look," Cayden explained as he extended his arms at his sides and presented himself to the boy. "I’m your brother. I’m the one our father chose," he said, his words hitting home and causing Izik’s heart to pound furiously in his chest. "He’s not worth it," Cayden said as he shook his head. "Our father isn’t worth it. He hates me," he explained. "Because I’m gay. Isn’t that funny dad, you chose the wrong son," Cayden said with a chuckle.

"Cayden, stop," Victoria said, hoping that he son wouldn’t go down that road.

"Let’s just all take a moment to gather our thoughts," Patrick said softly. "We have to think about this."

"What is there to think about, Patrick?" Victoria questioned. "Do you honestly think we can be a family again? Your son, the child you conceived with another woman while you and I were still married is standing in our son’s living room. This is not a family, this is an episode of Jerry Springer!"

"Victoria, please," Patrick said. "We can make this works. It’ll be hard, but we can make it work."

"Patrick, I’m engaged," Victoria announced.

Patrick King stared at his ex-wife as if she had plunged a dagger into his heart. "You can’t be," he said with disbelief.

"Why not?" Victoria asked, "I’m not supposed to move on with my life? You were the one who wanted a divorce. You were the one who cheated on me - again."

"I’m sorry."

"Sorry doesn’t cut it," Victoria explained. "What did you think would happen? Did you think you would walk back into our lives and with the snap of your fingers we would all just fall into place? And what about Izik? If he hadn’t come here, would you have told us or would you have gone on pretending like you only had one son?" She questioned.

"I know that I made some mistakes, Victoria, but Izik is not one of them. Look at him," he said as he pointed to his son. "Can you honestly look at him and tell me that he was a mistake?"

Victoria glanced at Izik. She felt horrible that she was referring to him as a mistake and probably causing him further pain, but she had to be honest with herself. Seeing Izik Morin was proof that she had been a fool for so many years.

"Don’t you dare," Izik said as he shook his head. "Don’t be nice to me now," he said as he backed away. "What do you expect? You think I’m just going to forget about all those years you abandoned me? You think I’m just going to be a part of your family? I hate you," Izik declared. "I don’t want to be a part of this family. I hate all of you," Izik repeated. "I just wanted to see for myself what you chose over us," Izik explained. "I hope you’re happy with your decision," he said as he turned and ran from the apartment.

"Izik!" Victoria shouted as she watched the boy run away from her for the second time that day.

Cayden had no idea what he was doing, but the moment Izik left the apartment, something inside of him snapped. He ran too. He ran after Izik Morin, not because he liked him and not because he wanted Izik to stay. He ran after Izik Morin because the boy was his brother.

"Maybe we sh-should just go," Elijah Montessori said as he glanced out of the door. "It’s not raining as hard as it was a few minutes ago. I think this is as good as it’s going to g-get," he explained as he turned toward Nicolae Federov.

"I don’t know," Nicolae said. "I hate getting wet. Let’s just wait a few more minutes to see if it stops."

"Okay," Elijah said, "W-we wouldn’t want you to melt or anything l-like that," he teased. He smiled as he walked toward his boyfriend. The stairwell doors were thrown open and a young man burst out into the lobby and ran out of the building.

"What the hell was that all about?" Nicolae questioned curiously. A moment later, the door burst open again and Cayden emerged from the stairwell. He ran toward the door quickly and out onto the street. "Was that Cayden?" He questioned with surprise.

"I think so," Elijah responded as he ran toward the door and pushed it open, peering out onto the street. Nicolae joined him.

"Which way did they go?" He questioned.

"I don’t know," Elijah explained. "I can’t see th-them anymore." He stepped back inside, wondering what on Earth would cause Cayden to chase someone out of the building. He reached up to wipe the back of his neck. In the door time that he had peered outside, he had managed to get his head and neck soaked.

"Let’s wait until the rain st-stops," Elijah agreed.

"I told you," Nicolae teased as his boyfriend returned to the couch in the lobby and sat down, wiping the back of his neck.

Sebastian Vaughn stepped into the building from the cold, wet street and shook off his umbrella. With a sigh, he put it down and walked over toward his mailbox. He watched, from the corner of his eye as Elijah and Nicolae playfully laughed with one another. Elijah sat in Nicolae’s arms, teasing him by tickling his neck and Nicolae smiled back at him.

Sebastian watched them quietly, trying to understand what it was that brought the two of them together. What could make a man fall in love with another man. Was it natural? Was this the way things were supposed to happen, or was it something else? Was it a mental illness that lead someone to believe that they were in love with someone of the same gender?

He couldn’t understand or make sense of the thoughts in his own head, and so he stood there, with his mail in his hand and he watched the two men on the couch and tried his hardest to understand.

"Something wrong, Sebastian?" Elijah questioned, when he realized the man seemed to be frozen.

Sebastian Vaughn didn’t realize that he had been staring for so long and he glanced away and shut his mailbox. "No, nothing," Sebastian responded. He couldn’t bring himself to look Elijah in the eye.

"Are you sure?" Elijah questioned. "You look . . . sad. C-come sit down," he said as he motioned to the couch nearest the one he and Nicolae were sitting on. "What’s going on?"

Sebastian hesitated for a moment, but curiosity got the best of him and he found himself sitting down with the two men. He had questions, but he didn’t know how best to ask them.

"What’s up, Chief?" Elijah questioned.

"It’s nothing," Sebastian responded, suddenly not so sure if he wanted to discuss his private thoughts in the lobby of his building, where anyone could hear.

"It doesn’t look like nothing," Nicolae chimed in. "Come on, we’re all friends here," he explained.

"I know," Sebastian responded. "It’s just . . ."

Elijah watched him carefully, not sure what had Sebastian so deep in thought, but whatever it was, it was probably better for Sebastian to get it off of his chest. Plus, it would be a way to kill time as the rain outside didn’t seem to be letting up.

"How did you guys . . . What I mean is . . . The two of you are . . ."

"Jeez, I th-thought I was the one with the sp-speech problem," Elijah teased. "Just spit it out."

"How did you know you were gay?" Sebastian asked, finally.

Elijah paused for a moment and glanced at Nicolae. He glanced back at Sebastian Vaughn and smiled. "What are you saying, Sebastian? Are you gay?" He questioned with excitement. "You’re gay?"

"Oh no, no, no," Sebastian responded. "He wasn’t sure if he was gay or not, and he definitely didn’t want to be labeled as such."

"No, it’s okay," Elijah responded. "Being gay is great. We don’t have to hide it anymore. You’re here and you’re queer! You should be shouting it at the top of your lungs."

Nicolae Federov watched Sebastian carefully and realized that he was growing uncomfortable with the conversation. "Elijah, let’s not be too hasty here," he began. "I don’t think that’s what Sebastian is asking."

"He’s asking us how we knew we were gay, which implies that he’s questioning if he is gay," Elijah responded matter-of-factly.

"It doesn’t imply a thing," Nicolae explained.

"You know what, forget it," Sebastian said as he stood up from the couch.

"Who is it?" Elijah questioned. "Which guy is making you question your sexuality? Oh my God," Elijah said as he started to laugh. "It’s Jesse, isn’t it? Holy shit," he said as he was thrown into a fit of laughter.

Sebastian Vaughn watched at Elijah Montessori began to laugh at him. He could hear Elijah’s wailing in his head, and his heart began to pound furiously. "Shut up!" He yelled at the top of his lungs, causing Elijah to nearly jump right out of his skin.

"Shut the hell up!" Sebastian yelled again before turning away and heading for the staircase.

"What the hell is his problem?" Elijah questioned.

Nicolae Federov glanced at his boyfriend. He knew how delicate Sebastian Vaughn was at the moment and he knew that Elijah had just torn apart a confidence that could never be replaced. "Don’t worry about it," he said softly.

Szymon Skubisz rushed into the emergency room frantically. All sorts of thoughts were rushing through his head as he looked for someone familiar. He kept thinking about his son and what Cecilia had told him on the phone. He rushed to the desk.

"I’m here for my son, Sammy Skubisz," he said quickly at the woman behind the counter.

"Szymon!" Cecilia Nakamura called out. She rushed toward him. He was grateful to see her. He reached over and hugged her and she hugged him back.

"What happened?" He questioned. "Where’s Sammy?"

"He’s with Andrea. Come with me," she said.

"What happened? Is he okay?" Szymon inquired as he followed his friend.

"We don’t know yet," Andrea explained.

"You don’t know?" Szymon inquired.

"He’s been sick lately," Andrea responded. "He has a fever and he’s been complaining of headaches. We thought he was just sick so we kept giving him stuff for a fever, but I don’t think it’s a fever, Szymon," Cecilia noted.

"Then what is it?" Szymon questioned.

"He doesn’t eat very much anymore and he’s weak and tired all the time."

"Did you take him to the pediatrician?" Szymon asked.

"We did, he told us that Sammy had a fever, but then his gums started bleeding today and Andrea freaked out and we came straight here. I‘m not a doctor Szymon, but have your gums ever bled when you had a fever?" Cecilia inquired.

As they entered the room, Szymon Skubisz felt as if all of the oxygen in the air had suddenly been taken away. He paused, frozen in the doorway as his eyes came to rest on the small boy laying in the hospital bed. By his side sat Andrea Darling. She glanced up and saw Szymon and jumped out of her chair and ran to him.

She hugged him tightly as tears ran down the side of her cheeks. "Szymon," she managed as they pulled away. "Thank God you came."

"Of course I came," Szymon replied. "It’s my son." Slowly, he walked toward the side of Sammy’s hospital bed and stared down at his boy. "He looks like an angel," he said softly. Sammy was sleeping and were it not for the monitors and hospital equipment all around his bed, he would have looked like any other boy his age. "What’s happening?" Szymon questioned. "What did the doctor say?"

"He’s calling in a consult," Andrea explained. "They should be here any minute."

"How long has he been sick?" Szymon inquired, unable to take his eyes off of his baby.

"It’s been a couple of weeks," Andrea responded. "We thought it was a fever, but it’s lasted so long."

"A couple of weeks?" Szymon inquired as he finally glanced at the mother of his child. "My son’s been ill for weeks and the first time I hear about it is when he’s lying in the emergency room?" He was angry that Andrea had let it get so far before informing him.

"Just one second," Cecilia Nakamura spoke up. "Don’t you blame her for this, we couldn’t have known that it was more than just a fever. Kids get sick all the time. We had no idea," she explained.

"His gums were bleeding, Cici," Szymon said, getting angrier by the minute. "Why didn’t you call me when he first got sick?" He was doing his best to try and keep his tone low because his son was laying right beside him, but an intense anger was welling up inside of Szymon Skubisz.

"And why didn’t you come around?" Cecilia questioned. "He’s your son, Szymon. You used to come see him all the time. Why did you stop? You can’t blame us for not calling you when he’s sick when you don’t even see him when he’s well," she explained.

Szymon glanced over at Cecilia with pain in his eyes. "I . . . I . . ." He didn’t know what to say. Cecilia was right. He had been a terrible father since he moved in with Cayden. Sure, he had made some time to go see his son, but not like he used to, and certainly not as much as he should have.

"Look," Andrea said, "we can all stand here and point fingers at one another over things we can’t change, or we can decide to forget about that and start to focus on what is more important. Our son is lying in a hospital bed," she said as she glanced at Szymon and Cecilia. The three of us are his parents and we need to put aside our personal problems to focus on our son," she explained.

"Daddy," Sammy Skubisz said softly as his eyes fluttered open. He smiled up at Szymon "When did you get here?" He questioned.

Szymon smiled down at his son and reached over to hold his hand. It surprised him to see how small Sammy’s hand was as he held it in his own. "Just now, Sammy," he said softly. "I’m here for you now, and I won’t leave until your better," he promised as he glanced up at Andrea and Cecilia and nodded reassuringly.

There were very few places that Sarah Mulberry could go when she wanted to get away from the mess she called her life. She could go to the coffee shop down the street and sit at a table and pretend to be an overly intelligent college student, waxing philosophical about one topic or the other. She could go to the pizza shop and have a slice or two and watch whatever game was on. She could go to a nightclub and drink her sorrows away while Ryan Clarke poured drink after free drink.

With all of these options, it always surprised her when she went back to the same place, Jesse Martinez’s apartment. She opened the door and stepped inside. Jesse had a habit of not locking it, which seemed to comfort her, despite the fact that it was probably one of the stupidest things anyone living in New York could do. She shut the door behind her and walked over to the small couch in the living room and sat down.

Jesse stood in front of a canvas. He was shirtless, which didn’t seem out of the ordinary. Jesse never wore a shirt when he painted, he felt that clothing restricted his natural energy, especially when he was creating a work of art. It had taken Sarah weeks to get him to at least wear a pair of pants while he did it, for fear that someone might walk in. They had settled on a compromise. He would wear his underwear.

"What’s going on in your world today?" Jesse questioned softly as he held the brush in his hand. He couldn’t bring himself to paint. He never once looked to see who had entered his apartment, but he knew exactly who it was. He always did. It was almost as if he had a sixth sense.

"Life sucks," Sarah responded.

"It‘s a terrible lesson to learn," Jesse noted, "yet each time we come to this realization, we find ourselves surprised. I wonder why that is."

"It’s my mother," Sarah explained.

"And what does she want?" Jesse inquired.

"She showed up on my doorstep after months of not talking to me and convinced my grandmother that I should move back to Albany with her. She says she wants us to work out our differences. Can you imagine?"

"Yes, actually, I can." Jesse responded.

"So you think I should back home too? Some friend you are."

Jesse finally put his paintbrush down. He couldn’t paint anyway. He sat on the couch next to Sarah. "No," he said, "I don’t think you should move back to Albany, not unless you want to, but I can imagine that your mother would want to work out her differences with you."

"Do you know my mother?" Sarah questioned. "The differences between us could fill a football stadium. I just don’t know what to do, I need a friend right now," she explained.

"Which begs the question," Jesse interrupted. "Where is Joseph Lester in all of this?"

"He’s working," Sarah explained. "I see where you’re going with this, but you’re wrong. I can’t talk to Joseph about things like this, not yet. We’ve only been dating for three months."

"It’s better to be honest," Jesse reminded her.

"You sound like a shrink," Sarah teased.

"Speaking of which, have you called Adam Price?" Jesse questioned.

"You’re crazy if you think I’m going to call your shrink and schedule an appointment," Sarah responded.

"That I am," Jesse said with a smile. "That’s why I see him." He got up from the couch and walked into the kitchen. A moment later he returned with a bottle of beer and diet coke. He handed Sarah the beer.

"How did you know?" She questioned.

"Because I do," Jesse answered. It was true, Jesse Martinez always knew things. It wasn’t just knowing who entered his apartment without looking, but it was something more than that. Serena Sidhu said he had the gift of sight. Maybe she was right.

"The way I see it," Jesse said as he twisted the cap off of his soda and paused to take a sip, "you have two options. You can try to work things out with your mother or you can decide that there is nothing left to work out."

"Well thank you for stating the obvious," Sarah joked.

"Well, I don’t think it’s that simple," Jesse explained, "and the fact that you’re sitting here on my couch tells me that you don’t either. You do realize that with either option, you have to deal with the consequences. You can try to work things out, but then you have to deal with what caused that rift in the first place, or you can decide it’s not worth the effort and live with your pain for the rest of your life," he explained.

Sarah Mulberry took a swig of the beer and stared at Jesse for a long while. He was right. Either choice she made, she had to deal with the consequences. She just didn’t know what choice she was going to make, but one thing was certain, she would prove her mother wrong about her. She reached into her pocket and pulled out an envelope.

"Here," she said as she handed it to Jesse.

"What is this?" Jesse questioned.

"It’s a letter that arrived three months ago," she explained. "It was in my mailbox. It’s for Julia," she explained.

"For Julia?" Jesse inquired as he glanced down at the letter sent from Wellington Hills. He was going to read it when he tensed up suddenly and sat forward on the couch. He glanced at the door.

"What is it?" Sarah questioned as she glanced at the door.

"It’s time for me to make a choice," Jesse explained as he placed the letter aside and they both heard a knock at the door. "Come in," he called out.

Sarah watched as the door opened and Sebastian Vaughn stepped into the apartment. "Excuse me," she said as she stood up. "I have leave. Thank you for the talk," she said as she leaned forward and gave Jesse a kiss on the cheek. "I’m taking the beer with me," she smiled as she walked toward the door and nodded at Sebastian on her way out.

Standing in the doorway, Sebastian glanced across the room at Jesse Martinez in his black thigh cut boxer briefs. "You’re painting," he said. "I’m sorry, I’ll come back later."

"Don’t be ridiculous," Jesse said. "Come in." He returned to his canvas and picked up his brush. "It’s not right," Jesse noted. "I can’t get it right."

"What’s wrong?" Sebastian questioned.

"I can’t paint when you’re not here," He turned to stare into Sebastian’s eyes. "I don’t know what’s going on between us," Jesse admitted, "and I don’t know what it all means, but I do know that when you’re here, I can paint and when you’re not, I can’t. Please stay. We can figure the rest out, but I need you to stay." Sebastian Vaughn nodded and slowly walked to the stool in the center of the room and sat down quietly. Jesse Martinez lifted his paintbrush to the canvas and smiled.

Devon shut the door to the bedroom and turned to face Gage. She watched him very carefully as she prepared to ask him the most important question that she could think of. "Gage," she said, "Why did you ask your mother for twenty-five-thousand dollars. What could you possibly need so much money for?" She questioned.

"It’s not what you think," Gage responded.

"How could you possibly know what I am thinking?" Devon inquired. "You do that all the time, you act like you know what I’m thinking, but you don’t. Why do you need the money."

Gage Matthews paused. He didn’t want to tell Devon the real reason why he needed the money and he was angry with his mother for even brining it up. "All she had to do what say no," Gage sighed. "She didn’t have to come all the way here to tell me to my face."

"That still doesn’t answer my question," Devon said. "Why did you ask her for it in the first place? You had to know that twenty-five-thousand dollars was going to raise some eyebrows. She thinks you’re into drugs or gambling again. Is she right?"

"Are you serious?" Gage questioned. "You think I’m back on drugs?" He seemed offended by the mere mention of it.

"I don’t know what to think, Gage. I thought we were getting by quite nicely and the next thing I know, you’re mother is standing in the middle of my living room telling me that you asked her for a ton of cash. I want to know why. If we’re not struggling to pay the bills, then why do you need so much money?"

"You think I’m on drugs again . . . or gambling," Gage said as he shook his head. "I should have known you would think the worst about me. I gave all of that up for you and for our son," he explained. "I’ve made incredible changes in my life and yet you still seem to think the worst of me."

"I just want to know," Devon said.

"So do I," Gage replied. "Do you even trust me?" He questioned. "Are you seriously standing there telling me that you don’t trust me anymore. Devon, this is me, the father of your child, the man who loves you enough to cover up a murder for you. How can you ask me this."

"Because I want to be sure," Devon explained.

"Why can’t you just believe the best about me?" Gage questioned. "Why do you always have to think that I’m up to no good? You’re just like my mother," he explained. "Ashamed of me!"

"I am not ashamed of you!" Devon replied.

"Then why didn’t you tell your mother that you were pregnant?" Gage questioned. "Did you think I didn’t notice that? She had no idea that you were carrying my child, Devon, and I have to wonder if that’s because you were ashamed of who your baby’s father is."

"Gage, that’s ridiculous," Devon countered.

"Is it?" Gage questioned. "You and this baby are the only family that I have. My parents don’t even like me. They ran me out of Albany because they were ashamed of me. I get an allowance to stay away from them," he explained. "You have no idea what that feels like. I thought you would be different. I thought you of all people could accept me for me, but I see now that I was wrong. I was dead wrong."

"How dare you?" Devon shouted. "I’ve been here the whole time, watching you and seeing the things that you do. I fell in love with you despite the fact that you did drugs and I stuck it out with you when you were gambling. A man was killed to protect you," Devon reminded him in a lower tone so as not to be overheard. "And I made that happen! How dare you stand there and tell me that I am not here for you."

"All you see when you look at me is a man that is one step away from addiction," Gage sighed as he turned away and stepped into the bathroom and shut the door behind him.

In the living room, Gloria Matthews glanced over at Dorthea James. She could hear Devon and Gage arguing in the bedroom. "Perhaps it is time that we step in and do something," Gloria said, catching Dorthea off-guard.

"What are you talking about?" Dorthea questioned.

"We don’t like one another," Gloria explained, "and we certainly do not like the relationship that our children have. We both want the best for our children, so I am going to go against my better judgment here and ask you for your help," Gloria admitted.

"And what exactly do you think I would help you with?" Dorthea questioned.

"We both want the same thing. We want our children separated from one another. Work with me, Dorthea. We can put a wedge between Gage and Devon and see to it that they do not stay together. It is the best possible solution for everyone involved."

Dorthea James stared at Gloria Matthews for a long time before nodding her head. "This is probably the worst decision that I will ever make," Dorthea admitted, "but you’ve got yourself a partner, Gloria Matthews."

Izik Morin found himself wandering the streets of New York aimlessly. He wanted to cry, but couldn’t find the tears to do so. The rain beat him senseless, pouring down on him and soaking him until his clothes hung on him so heavily that he wanted to drop to the ground.

He was heartbroken. Destitute. He had come to New York to see for himself what his father had chosen. He couldn’t compete. He never had a change. His brother was so much better than he was, so much smarter. Victoria was a strong woman, not like his mother. Although he loved his mother, she was weak. Years of alcohol abuse had beaten her down.

He crossed an alley and stopped to stare down it. There was a man sitting beside a dumpster with a cardboard box leaning against the wall to protect him from the rain. He glanced at Izik and the two of them held eye contact for a moment.

"That’s me," Izik Morin thought to himself. "This is my fate. I’m destined to be alone, unwanted and forgotten," he told himself before moving on. He rushed into the entryway of a deli and stood outside of the rain just in front of the door, hoping that the rain would let up enough for him to continue.

His thoughts raced back to what his father had said. He wanted to be a family again. The truth was that, had he not shown up, Patrick wouldn’t have told them about his other son, the son no one really wanted.

He heard a knock on the glass behind him and saw the owner of the deli wave him away. Izik glanced down at the clothes he was wearing. He looked like a bum. The owner yelled for him to get away from the door and Izik Morin stepped back out into the rain.

He came face to face with Cayden King. Cayden stared into Izik’s eyes silently. He could see the pain his brother was feeling, and could only imagine how horrible it felt. Izik stared back at him with surprise.

"What are you doing here?" Izik questioned.

"I don't know," Cayden admitted as the two of them stood in the middle of the sidewalk, in the rain, staring at one another.

"What do you want?" Izik asked.

Cayden shook his head. The truth was that he had no idea what he wanted or why he was there. All he knew was that he had to do something. He couldn't just let Izik run off. He couldn't stand there while he knew the boy was in pain. He just couldn't do nothing.

He felt like he had to do something, so Cayden King acted on his impulse. He reached over and grabbed Izik Morin's hand. "You're coming home with me," he said it with so much authority that it shocked even him, and as he looked into his younger brother's eyes, he said: "Please . . ."