PART FOUR: THE LETTER FROM TWENTY-SEVEN YEARS AGO — AND THE SECRET THAT COULD DESTROY TWO GENERATIONS
For several seconds, nobody in Rebecca’s office spoke.
I could hear the ticking of the clock above her desk.
I could hear Daniel breathing beside me.
And I could hear Thomas Reed waiting on the other end of the telephone.
But all I could think about was one sentence.
“Carol can never find out.”
Twenty-seven years.
For twenty-seven years, my husband might have been hiding something that could destroy everything I believed about our marriage.
I looked at Daniel.
My beautiful, hardworking son.
The boy I had raised to believe that family meant loyalty.
The man who had married Jenna only three months earlier.
And now there was a possibility that his wife was somehow connected to his father in a way neither of us could understand.
“Thomas,” Rebecca said carefully, “I need you to read the rest of that letter.”
There was a rustling sound.
Then Thomas cleared his throat.
“Patricia, I know what we agreed about the baby, but Carol can never find out. If she discovers what happened, she’ll ask questions about the money, and everything we’ve built will collapse.”
My hands began shaking.
Thomas continued.
“I’ve arranged for the account to remain in your name until the child turns twenty-five. After that, we’ll decide how to handle the remaining assets. But you must never contact my family. Not Carol. Not my children. Nobody.”
I pressed my hand against my mouth.
Daniel whispered, “My God.”
Rebecca leaned toward the phone.
“Is there anything in the letter identifying Mark as the child’s father?”
Thomas paused.
“No. Not explicitly.”
I looked up.
“What does that mean?”
“It means we cannot assume Jenna is Mark’s daughter simply because he wrote about a baby.”
Daniel exhaled shakily.
For a moment, I saw hope return to his face.
But it disappeared when Thomas spoke again.
“However, Patricia wrote a response.”
Rebecca straightened.
“What did she say?”
Thomas hesitated.
“She wrote that Mark had made promises about the child’s future.”
I felt sick.
“What promises?”
“That he would provide financially. That he would never abandon them. And that when the time was right, the child would receive what she was owed.”
Daniel shook his head.
“That doesn’t make sense.”
I looked at him.
“What doesn’t?”
He swallowed.
“Jenna told me her father died before she was born.”
My heart tightened.
“Did she ever show you a photograph?”
“No.”
“Did you ever meet anyone from her father’s family?”
“No.”
“Did you ask?”
“Of course I asked, Mom. She said it was too painful to discuss.”
I closed my eyes.
Another lie.
Or perhaps another carefully constructed story.
Rebecca spoke into the telephone.
“Thomas, I want you to send me copies of everything. The original letter, Patricia’s response, and the financial records.”
“I already emailed them.”
“Good.”
Then Thomas lowered his voice.
“Rebecca, there’s one more thing.”
I felt my stomach tighten.
“What now?” I whispered.
“The account that received the missing $240,000 was not closed.”
Rebecca frowned.
“What happened to it?”
“Additional deposits were made over the years.”
“By whom?”
“Mark.”
I stared at the telephone.
Thomas continued.
“And three months ago, shortly after Daniel’s wedding, someone withdrew nearly all the remaining money.”
Daniel leaned forward.
“Who?”
Thomas answered.
“Patricia Wells.”
My son’s face hardened.
“Jenna’s mother.”
“Yes.”
“And where did the money go?”
Thomas paused.
“Into an account connected to Bennett Family Holdings.”
The company named in the property documents.
The same company that appeared to be trying to take control of my home.
I slowly sat down.
For years, I had believed my husband was careless with money.
Sometimes he made investments that didn’t work out.
Sometimes he complained about business expenses.
Sometimes he asked me to help cover bills.
I had never imagined that the financial problems might be connected to a hidden relationship, a secret account, and a scheme involving my father’s estate.
Rebecca ended the call after arranging for Thomas to meet us later that afternoon.
Then she turned toward Daniel and me.
“Listen carefully. We have evidence suggesting financial misconduct and possible document forgery. But we need to verify the records before deciding exactly what happened.”
I nodded.
“What should we do?”
“First, we need to protect the property. Second, we need to preserve the messages and documents. Third, I strongly recommend that neither of you confront Mark or Jenna alone.”
Daniel stood.
“I want to talk to Jenna.”
“Daniel—” I began.
“No, Mom.”
His voice was trembling.
“I married her. I stood in front of everyone we love and promised to spend my life with her.”
His eyes filled with tears.
“And now I don’t even know who she is.”
I reached for his hand.
He pulled away, not angrily, but because he was trying desperately to hold himself together.
“I need answers.”
Rebecca studied him.
“Then let’s arrange a meeting here, with someone present.”
Daniel shook his head.
“She won’t tell the truth in front of a lawyer.”
“She may not tell the truth anywhere,” Rebecca replied.
Those words settled heavily over the room.
Because we all knew she was right.
At eleven thirty that morning, Daniel’s phone rang again.
Jenna.
He stared at the screen.
Then looked at Rebecca.
“Can I answer?”
Rebecca nodded.
“Put it on speaker if you’re comfortable. Don’t threaten her, and don’t make accusations you can’t substantiate.”
Daniel accepted the call.
“Hello?”
Jenna’s voice came through immediately.
“Daniel! Thank God. I’ve been trying to reach you all night.”
He said nothing.
“Baby, where are you?”
“With Mom.”
There was a pause.
“Oh.”
Then her voice changed.
“Daniel, whatever your mother told you, please don’t believe it.”
My son looked directly at the phone.
“What exactly do you think she told me?”
Silence.
Then Jenna laughed nervously.
“I don’t know. Your dad said she was upset about something.”
Daniel’s jaw tightened.
“Jenna, were you at the Westbrook Hotel last night?”
The silence that followed was answer enough.
“Why?”
“Just answer the question.”
“Daniel, I can explain.”
I closed my eyes.
There it was.
The sentence people use when the truth has already caught up with them.
Daniel’s voice cracked.
“Were you there with my father?”
Jenna began crying.
“Please, Daniel.”
“Were you?”
“Yes.”
My son gripped the edge of Rebecca’s desk.
“Did you kiss him?”
She didn’t answer.
“Jenna!”
“Yes!” she sobbed.
Daniel turned away.
I watched his shoulders rise and fall.
For a moment, I thought he would hang up.
Instead, he asked quietly, “How long?”
“Daniel, please don’t do this over the phone.”
“How long?”
Another pause.
“Before the wedding.”
He closed his eyes.
“How long before?”
“Daniel…”
“Tell me!”
“Almost two years.”
My son made a sound I will never forget.
Not quite a sob.
Not quite a scream.
Something between disbelief and unbearable pain.
“You were with my father while you were dating me?”
Jenna cried harder.
“It’s complicated.”
“No,” Daniel whispered. “It’s cruel.”
I covered my mouth.
Then Daniel asked the question that had been haunting me since Thomas read the letter.
“Jenna, who is your father?”
The crying stopped.
Completely.
“What?”
“Your biological father. Who is he?”
“Why are you asking me that?”
“Because I need to know.”
Her voice became sharp.
“Did your mother put you up to this?”
“Answer me.”
There was a long silence.
Then Jenna said something unexpected.
“Daniel, I need to talk to your mother.”
I stared at the phone.
Daniel frowned.
“Why?”
“Because there’s something she doesn’t understand.”
My heart began pounding.
“What don’t I understand?” I asked.
Jenna gasped.
“Carol?”
“I’m here.”
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then she whispered, “I’m sorry.”
I felt my eyes fill with tears.
“Sorry for what, Jenna?”
“For everything.”
“That doesn’t tell me anything.”
She began crying again.
“I never wanted it to happen this way.”
I leaned closer.
“Then tell us what happened.”
Jenna hesitated.
Then she whispered, “Mark told me that if I didn’t follow the plan, my mother would lose everything.”
Rebecca immediately straightened.
“What plan?” she asked.
Jenna froze.
“Who’s that?”
“Rebecca Hayes. I’m Carol’s attorney.”
The line went silent.
Then Jenna whispered, “Oh, God.”
“Jenna,” Rebecca said calmly, “if you’re being threatened or pressured, you can seek independent legal advice. But you need to understand that serious allegations have been made.”
Jenna’s breathing became uneven.
“Mark told me you would get involved.”
I looked at Rebecca.
She frowned.
“What do you mean?”
“He said you were the only person who could ruin everything.”
My stomach tightened.
“Jenna, what exactly did Mark tell you about me?”
There was another pause.
Then she said, “He told me Carol’s father stole money from my mother.”
I stared at the phone.
“What?”
“He said your father ruined my mother’s life.”
I shook my head.
“That’s not true.”
“That’s what I believed!”
Her voice broke.
“That’s what I grew up believing!”
Daniel leaned forward.
“Jenna, what does any of that have to do with marrying me?”
She began sobbing.
“Because Mark said marrying you was the only way to get back what belonged to us.”
The room went silent.
I felt as though someone had pulled the ground from beneath my feet.
My husband had apparently convinced a young woman that my family owed her money.
Then he had encouraged her to marry our son.
And somewhere along the way, he had begun an affair with her.
But one question still remained.
“Jenna,” I whispered, “is Mark your father?”
There was silence.
A terrible, endless silence.
Then she answered.
“No.”
Daniel’s head snapped up.
“What?”
“Mark is not my father.”
I stared at the phone.
“How do you know?”
“Because my mother told me who my father was when I turned eighteen.”
My heart raced.
“Who?”
Jenna hesitated.
Then whispered a name.
“Thomas Reed.”
I looked at Rebecca.
Her expression changed instantly.
Thomas.
My father’s accountant.
The man who had called us that morning.
The man who had supposedly discovered the missing money.
The man who had been investigating Mark.
Daniel stared at the phone.
“Thomas Reed is your father?”
“Yes.”
I felt cold all over.
Because suddenly, the story was becoming even more complicated.
Thomas had been involved in my father’s finances.
Patricia had received the missing money.
Mark had written letters about a baby.
And now Jenna claimed that Thomas was her biological father.
Rebecca leaned forward.
“Jenna, has Thomas acknowledged that?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know?”
“My mother showed me letters.”
I looked at Rebecca.
She was already writing something down.
Then Jenna said, “Carol, there’s something else.”
“What?”
“Your husband didn’t start seeing me because he loved me.”
My throat tightened.
“Then why?”
“Because I found something in my mother’s papers.”
“What did you find?”
“A recording.”
I stared at the phone.
“A recording of what?”
“Mark and my mother arguing about the money.”
Daniel leaned forward.
“What did they say?”
Jenna hesitated.
“Mark admitted that the missing $240,000 had been taken from your father’s account.”
My heart pounded.
“Did he say he took it?”
“Yes.”
I closed my eyes.
For fifteen years, I had believed my father’s accountant had failed to uncover the truth.
Now the truth was beginning to emerge.
My husband had apparently stolen from the man who had warned me not to trust him.
Jenna continued.
“When I confronted Mark, he told me that my mother had helped him.”
Rebecca looked up.
“Helped him how?”
“She moved the money through an account in her name.”
I gripped the edge of the desk.
“And what did Mark promise you?”
Jenna’s voice trembled.
“He promised to repay everything.”
“By taking my house?”
Silence.
Then a whisper.
“Yes.”
Daniel covered his face.
I felt something inside me break.
My son had been used.
My father’s memory had been dragged through lies.
And the home I had spent my life building had become the target of a scheme involving the people closest to me.
But I still didn’t understand one thing.
“Jenna,” I said quietly, “if you knew Mark was stealing from my family, why did you continue helping him?”
She began crying harder.
“Because he threatened to tell Daniel something about me.”
Daniel looked up.
“What?”
Jenna sobbed.
“Something I did before we met.”
My son stared at the phone.
“What did you do?”
She didn’t answer.
“Jenna?”
Then she whispered, “I was involved in a fraud investigation at my old job.”
Rebecca straightened.
“What kind of investigation?”
“Money disappeared from a client’s account. I signed paperwork I shouldn’t have signed. Mark helped me get legal advice, and the case was closed without charges against me.”
Daniel looked devastated.
“And he used that against you?”
“Yes.”
I stared at the phone.
For a moment, I almost felt sorry for her.
Almost.
But then I remembered the hotel.
The kiss.
The wedding.
The way she had smiled while my son promised to love her forever.
Whatever pressure Mark had placed on her, she had still made choices that hurt Daniel.
“Jenna,” I said, “you could have told us.”
“I know.”
“You could have walked away.”
“I know.”
“You could have refused to marry my son.”
Her crying grew louder.
“I know, Carol.”
I took a shaky breath.
“Then why didn’t you?”
She whispered, “Because by the time I wanted to stop, Mark had already filed the paperwork.”
Rebecca frowned.
“What paperwork?”
“The documents transferring the house.”
My heart stopped.
“Jenna, are you saying the transfer happened before the wedding?”
“Yes.”
Rebecca quickly pulled up the public records again.
“The deed we found was recorded recently.”
Jenna swallowed.
“That was the second filing.”
The room went silent.
Rebecca looked up sharply.
“Second?”
“Mark said the first documents were kept private because they involved the trust.”
I felt sick.
“Where are those documents?”
Jenna hesitated.
“In his office.”
Rebecca stood.
“Jenna, do not remove, alter, or destroy anything. If you have copies, preserve them.”
Jenna whispered, “I already made copies.”
My heart raced.
“Where are they?”
“At my mother’s house.”
Daniel stared at the phone.
“Jenna, why are you telling us this now?”
She began crying again.
“Because Mark is going to blame everything on me.”
I looked at Rebecca.
“What do you mean?”
Jenna’s voice dropped.
“He told me last night that if Carol found out, he’d tell everyone I manipulated him.”
Daniel shook his head.
“And did you?”
“No!”
She sobbed.
“Daniel, I did terrible things. I lied to you. I betrayed you. But Mark was the one who created the plan.”
My son looked toward the window.
His voice was barely audible.
“I don’t know how I’m supposed to believe anything you say anymore.”
Jenna went quiet.
Then she whispered, “I understand.”
For the first time, I heard something in her voice that sounded like genuine regret.
But regret couldn’t undo what had happened.
It couldn’t restore my son’s trust.
It couldn’t erase the hotel photographs.
And it couldn’t give me back the thirty-one years I had spent loving a man who might have been stealing from my family.
Rebecca asked Jenna to arrange for her own attorney and preserve the records.
Then the call ended.
Daniel sat down heavily.
For several minutes, nobody spoke.
Finally, he looked at me.
“Mom, I want a divorce.”
I reached for his hand.
“I know.”
“And I want Dad out of our lives.”
I swallowed.
“That’s something you’ll have to decide for yourself.”
He shook his head.
“How could he do this?”
I had no answer.
Because I was asking myself the same question.
Then Rebecca’s computer chimed.
An email had arrived.
From Thomas Reed.
The subject line read:
“URGENT — ORIGINAL FINANCIAL RECORDS.”
Rebecca opened it.
Attached were bank statements, copies of letters, and a scanned document from fifteen years earlier.
She examined the first few pages.
Then suddenly stopped.
“What is it?” I asked.
She didn’t answer.
Instead, she enlarged a section of one document.
It was a transfer authorization.
The amount was $240,000.
The account belonged to my father.
And the document contained three signatures.
My father’s.
Thomas Reed’s.
And mine.
I stared at it.
“That’s impossible.”
Rebecca looked at me.
“Carol, do you recognize this document?”
“No.”
“Are you certain?”
“Absolutely.”
She turned the screen toward me.
The signature looked almost perfect.
My handwriting.
My initials.
Even the small curve I always made beneath the final letter.
But I had never signed it.
Daniel leaned closer.
“Mom, that’s your signature.”
“No,” I whispered. “Someone copied it.”
Rebecca studied the document.
Then she noticed something.
“Wait.”
She enlarged the date.
The authorization had supposedly been signed on June 14, fifteen years earlier.
I stared at it.
June 14.
I remembered that date.
Because it was the day I had undergone emergency surgery.
I had spent nearly twenty-four hours in the hospital.
My father had been there.
Daniel had been there.
And Mark had been there.
I looked at Rebecca.
“I couldn’t have signed that.”
“Why?”
“Because I was unconscious in a hospital bed.”
Daniel’s eyes widened.
“I remember that day.”
Rebecca immediately began taking notes.
“Do you have medical records?”
“I can request them.”
“Good.”
Then she looked at the third signature.
Thomas Reed.
Her expression changed.
“Carol, there’s something wrong here.”
“What?”
“Thomas signed this as the witnessing accountant.”
My stomach tightened.
“So?”
“So if this document was forged, Thomas may have known about it.”
I stared at her.
The man who had just called us with evidence against Mark.
The man who claimed to be helping us.
The man who had been my father’s trusted accountant.
Could he have been involved too?
Before I could speak, Rebecca’s office door opened.
Her assistant stepped inside.
“Rebecca, there’s a gentleman here to see you.”
Rebecca frowned.
“Who?”
“Thomas Reed.”
My heart began pounding.
Rebecca looked at the clock.
He was early.
Very early.
“Send him in,” she said.
A moment later, Thomas entered.
He was older than I remembered.
His hair had turned almost completely white.
His shoulders were slightly bent.
And he carried a thick brown envelope.
When he saw me, his face changed.
“Carol.”
I stood.
“Thomas.”
He looked at Daniel.
Then at Rebecca.
“I came as soon as I could.”
Rebecca pointed toward the chair.
“Sit down.”
Thomas obeyed.
He placed the envelope on the desk.
“I brought the originals.”
Rebecca folded her arms.
“Before we look at those, I have a question.”
Thomas frowned.
“What?”
She turned her computer toward him.
“Why is your signature on a transfer authorization that Carol says she never signed?”
Thomas stared at the screen.
His face went pale.
For several seconds, he didn’t speak.
Then he slowly removed his glasses.
“Because I witnessed that transaction.”
I felt my chest tighten.
“You witnessed it?”
He nodded.
“But Carol wasn’t there.”
Rebecca leaned forward.
“Then who signed her name?”
Thomas looked at me.
And whispered, “Mark.”
The room went silent.
I felt as though the walls were closing in.
Thomas continued.
“Mark told me Carol had authorized the transfer and that he was signing under a power of attorney.”
Rebecca’s voice hardened.
“Did you verify that authority?”
Thomas lowered his head.
“No.”
I stared at him.
“You helped him steal from my father?”
His eyes filled with tears.
“I signed a document I should never have signed.”
“Why?”
He looked at the envelope.
“Because Mark had something on me.”
Rebecca leaned forward.
“What?”
Thomas swallowed.
“Patricia.”
My heart raced.
“What about Patricia?”
He looked at Daniel.
Then at me.
“Patricia was my wife.”
I froze.
“Your wife?”
He nodded.
“We separated years ago. But Mark knew something about our marriage that could have destroyed my career.”
Daniel frowned.
“What?”
Thomas looked ashamed.
“Patricia and I had been involved in an improper financial arrangement at my firm. Mark found out and threatened to report it unless I helped him.”
Rebecca stared at him.
“So you signed the transfer?”
“Yes.”
“And the money went into Patricia’s account?”
Thomas nodded.
“But she didn’t keep it.”
I leaned forward.
“Then who did?”
Thomas looked at me.
“Mark.”
I felt sick.
“Where did it go?”
Thomas hesitated.
Then opened the brown envelope.
He removed a document.
A property purchase agreement.
And placed it on Rebecca’s desk.
The buyer’s name was hidden behind a corporate entity.
But the date was familiar.
Fifteen years earlier.
The purchase price was $240,000.
Rebecca studied the page.
Then looked up.
“Carol, do you know this address?”
I leaned closer.
And my heart stopped.
Because I recognized it.
It was the address of the house where Jenna had grown up.
The house where her mother still lived.
I stared at Thomas.
“My husband bought Patricia a house?”
Thomas nodded slowly.
“With your father’s money.”
Daniel stood abruptly.
“That’s enough!”
His voice echoed through the office.
“That’s enough lies!”
He looked at Thomas.
“You’re telling me my father stole from Grandpa, bought my wife’s mother a house, and then somehow ended up having an affair with my wife?”
Thomas lowered his head.
“Yes.”
Daniel turned toward me.
“Mom, this is insane.”
I couldn’t disagree.
Then Thomas said something that made us all freeze.
“There’s a reason Mark chose Patricia.”
Rebecca frowned.
“What reason?”
Thomas looked at me.
“Carol, your father discovered something about Mark fifteen years ago.”
My heart pounded.
“What?”
Thomas hesitated.
“Mark had another family.”
The room went silent.
Daniel stared at him.
“What do you mean, another family?”
Thomas swallowed.
“A woman and a child.”
I felt the air leave my lungs.
“Who?”
Thomas looked down.
“Patricia and Jenna.”
Daniel stepped backward.
“But you said Patricia was your wife.”
“She was.”
“Then how could Jenna be Dad’s daughter?”
Thomas closed his eyes.
“Because Patricia had an affair with Mark while we were married.”
My knees nearly gave way.
Rebecca reached for my arm.
Thomas continued.
“I believed Jenna was my daughter for years. Patricia let me believe it. But when Jenna was a teenager, I discovered letters that made me question everything.”
Daniel whispered, “Did you get a DNA test?”
Thomas shook his head.
“No.”
“Then you don’t know.”
“No,” Thomas admitted. “I don’t.”
Rebecca looked at him sharply.
“Then you should not present this as established fact.”
Thomas nodded.
“You’re right.”
But the possibility was already hanging over us.
My husband had been involved with Patricia.
He had helped provide for Jenna.
He had stolen money from my father.
And years later, he had encouraged Jenna to marry our son.
I looked at Thomas.
“Does Jenna know any of this?”
He hesitated.
“I don’t know what Patricia told her.”
Daniel gripped the back of a chair.
“Then we need to find out.”
Rebecca nodded.
“We need reliable records, not assumptions. If paternity is relevant, it must be established properly.”
Thomas reached into the envelope again.
“There is one more document.”
I stared at him.
“What now?”
He removed a sealed letter.
The envelope was yellowed with age.
Across the front was my name.
Carol Bennett.
And underneath it were four words.
“To be opened privately.”
I recognized the handwriting immediately.
My father’s.
I looked at Rebecca.
“Another letter?”
She frowned.
“I’ve never seen that.”
Thomas nodded.
“Your father gave it to me shortly before he died.”
I stared at him.
“Why didn’t you give it to me?”
Thomas’s eyes filled.
“Because Mark threatened me.”
My hands began trembling.
“What did he threaten?”
Thomas looked at Daniel.
Then back at me.
“He said if I gave you the letter, he would make sure you lost everything.”
I slowly reached for the envelope.
Eleven years.
Another secret my father had tried to leave behind.
Another warning that had never reached me.
I opened it carefully.
Inside was a single sheet of paper.
I unfolded it.
And began reading.
“My dearest Carol,
There is something I have never had the courage to tell you.
I know you believe Mark is the father of all your children.
But years ago, when you were expecting Daniel, something happened that I have never forgotten.
Mark came to see me.
He was frightened.
He said there was a possibility that another woman was carrying his child.
He begged me to help him keep it secret.
I refused.
But what disturbed me most was not the affair.
It was something he said about Daniel.”
I stopped reading.
My heart began pounding.
Daniel leaned closer.
“Mom, keep going.”
My hands shook so badly I could barely hold the page.
I continued.
“Mark told me he had discovered information about Daniel’s birth that he believed could change everything.
He never explained what he meant.
But I later learned that he had requested copies of hospital records without telling you.
Carol, I don’t know whether he was lying or whether he truly believed what he said.
I only know that he was planning something.
And I was afraid.”
I stared at the letter.
Daniel looked confused.
“What information about my birth?”
I shook my head.
“I don’t know.”
Thomas lowered his eyes.
Rebecca leaned forward.
“Carol, we need to verify the circumstances of Daniel’s birth and determine whether any records were altered. This letter alone doesn’t establish anything.”
I nodded.
But my heart was racing.
Because I remembered something.
Something I had buried deep in my memory.
When Daniel was born, there had been complications.
I had been heavily medicated.
I remembered waking up and asking for my baby.
A nurse had told me there had been a delay.
Mark had been unusually nervous.
At the time, I thought he was simply frightened.
But now…
Now I wasn’t sure.
Daniel looked at me.
“Mom?”
I couldn’t speak.
He knelt beside my chair.
“Mom, whatever this is, I’m still your son.”
Tears spilled down my face.
I cupped his cheeks.
“Of course you are.”
He hugged me tightly.
And for a moment, the documents, the affair, the money, and the lies disappeared.
There was only my son.
My beautiful son.
The one person I knew I could trust.
Then Rebecca’s assistant knocked again.
“Rebecca?”
Rebecca looked toward the door.
“Yes?”
“There’s a woman here asking for Carol.”
My heart tightened.
“Who?”
The assistant hesitated.
“She says her name is Patricia Wells.”
Thomas stood so suddenly his chair fell backward.
“Patricia?”
The assistant nodded.
“She says it’s urgent.”
Rebecca looked at me.
“Carol, you don’t have to speak to her.”
But I was already standing.
“Send her in.”
A moment later, Patricia entered.
She was a tall woman in her late fifties, with dark hair streaked with gray.
Her face was pale.
Her eyes were swollen from crying.
And she was holding a small wooden box.
When she saw Thomas, she stopped.
“You.”
Thomas looked away.
Patricia turned toward me.
“Carol.”
I stared at her.
For years, I had known her only as Jenna’s mother.
A woman who had smiled at me during the wedding.
A woman who had hugged me and said how wonderful it was that our families were becoming one.
Now I wondered how many lies had been hidden behind that smile.
“What do you want?” I asked.
She looked at the box.
“I came to tell you the truth.”
I gave a bitter laugh.
“Which truth? There seem to be so many.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“About Jenna.”
Daniel stepped forward.
“What about my wife?”
Patricia looked at him.
Then at me.
And whispered, “Jenna doesn’t know everything.”
My stomach tightened.
“What doesn’t she know?”
Patricia opened the wooden box.
Inside were old photographs.
Hospital documents.
And a sealed envelope.
She removed a photograph.
It showed a young Mark standing beside Patricia outside a hospital.
Patricia was holding a newborn baby.
I stared at the picture.
My husband looked no older than thirty.
Patricia was smiling.
And in her arms was a little girl.
Jenna.
Daniel stepped backward.
“No.”
Patricia began crying.
“Mark was there the day she was born.”
I gripped the table.
“Is he her father?”
Patricia looked at Thomas.
Then at Daniel.
Then back at me.
“I don’t know for certain.”
Rebecca leaned forward.
“Then why have you come?”
Patricia swallowed.
“Because Mark has been lying to all of us.”
She reached into the box again.
And removed a document.
It was a laboratory report.
A paternity test.
Daniel stared at it.
“Whose test?”
Patricia’s hands shook.
“Thomas and Jenna.”
Thomas looked stunned.
“You had a test done?”
She nodded.
“Years ago.”
“Without telling me?”
“Yes.”
Rebecca took the report.
She read it carefully.
Then looked up.
“This appears to exclude Thomas as Jenna’s biological father, assuming the report is authentic.”
Thomas slowly sat down.
His face had gone completely white.
Patricia began sobbing.
“I’m sorry.”
Daniel looked at her.
“Then who is Jenna’s father?”
Patricia stared at the floor.
“Mark always believed he was.”
My heart stopped.
“Believed?”
She nodded.
“But I never let him take a test.”
“Why not?”
Patricia looked directly at me.
“Because I was afraid of what would happen if he knew for sure.”
I stared at her.
Then asked the question that had been tearing me apart.
“Did Mark know Jenna might be his daughter when he encouraged her to marry Daniel?”
Patricia began trembling.
“Yes.”
The room went completely silent.
Daniel staggered backward.
I felt sick.
My husband had encouraged our son to marry a woman he believed might be his own daughter.
And then he had begun an affair with her.
I couldn’t understand it.
I couldn’t even begin to understand it.
“Why?” I whispered.
Patricia shook her head.
“Because he said there was something more important than the truth.”
Rebecca leaned forward.
“What could possibly be more important?”
Patricia looked at the wooden box.
Then removed one final envelope.
It was newer than the others.
On the front was written:
“DNA RESULTS — CONFIDENTIAL.”
Daniel stared at it.
“What’s that?”
Patricia swallowed.
“Mark finally arranged a test.”
My heart raced.
“When?”
“Six months ago.”
Rebecca held out her hand.
“May I?”
Patricia gave her the envelope.
Rebecca opened it.
Read the first page.
Then stopped.
Her expression changed.
She looked at Patricia.
Then at Daniel.
Then at me.
“Carol…”
I could barely breathe.
“What does it say?”
Rebecca hesitated.
Then spoke carefully.
“This report states that Mark is not Jenna’s biological father.”
Daniel exhaled sharply.
For one brief second, I felt relief.
But Rebecca wasn’t finished.
She turned to the second page.
And suddenly, her face went pale.
“What?” I whispered.
She looked at the document again.
Then at my son.
“Daniel, there’s another result here.”
He frowned.
“What result?”
Rebecca swallowed.
“It appears Mark also submitted a sample to compare against yours.”
My heart began pounding.
Daniel stared at her.
“Mine?”
Rebecca nodded.
“There’s a parentage comparison.”
I gripped the edge of the desk.
“Rebecca, what are you saying?”
She looked at me with an expression I will never forget.
“Carol, according to this report, Mark is not Daniel’s biological father either.”
The room went silent.
I stared at her.
My mind refused to understand.
Thirty-one years of marriage.
Twenty-nine years of raising our son.
And now a laboratory report was claiming that the man Daniel had called Dad his entire life was not his biological father.
Daniel looked at me.
His face was white.
“Mom…”
I shook my head.
“No.”
He stepped toward me.
“Mom, did you know?”
I felt tears spill down my cheeks.
“No, sweetheart.”
“Then how is this possible?”
I couldn’t answer.
Because I had never been unfaithful to Mark.
Not once.
Not in thirty-one years.
And yet the report was sitting on Rebecca’s desk.
Rebecca immediately spoke.
“We need to verify this independently. We don’t know who supplied the samples, whether they were correctly identified, or whether the report has been altered.”
But Daniel barely seemed to hear her.
He stared at me.
Then at the photograph of Mark holding Jenna as a baby.
Then back at the report.
And suddenly, Patricia whispered something that made my blood run cold.
“Carol, there’s a reason Mark wanted Daniel to marry Jenna.”
I turned toward her.
“What reason?”
Patricia began crying again.
“Because he knew something about Daniel’s birth.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
She looked at Rebecca.
Then at Thomas.
Then at my son.
And whispered:
“Twenty-nine years ago, two babies were born at the same hospital on the same night.”
I couldn’t breathe.
Patricia continued.
“One of those babies was Daniel.”
I gripped the desk.
“And the other?”
She looked at me.
Her voice broke.
“A baby whose mother was told her child had died.”
Daniel stared at her.
“Who was the mother?”
Patricia closed her eyes.
Then whispered a name.
“Carol.”
I felt the entire world disappear.
Because I had never been told that my baby had died.
I had been told that Daniel was my son.
I had held him.
Fed him.
Raised him.
Loved him.
And now Patricia was standing in front of me, suggesting that something terrible had happened in the hospital twenty-nine years earlier.
I looked at Daniel.
Then at Patricia.
And asked the only question that mattered.
“Are you telling me Daniel isn’t my biological son?”
Patricia began sobbing.
“I don’t know what the truth is anymore.”
Then she reached into the wooden box one final time.
And pulled out a faded hospital bracelet.
It had a baby’s name printed across it.
A name I had never seen before.
But the date was Daniel’s birthday.
I stared at the bracelet.
And beneath the unfamiliar name were two words that made my heart stop.
“BABY GIRL.”
I looked at Patricia.
“Why do you have that?”
She didn’t answer.
“Patricia!”
Her face crumpled.
“Because Mark gave it to me.”
I could barely speak.
“When?”
She looked directly into my eyes.
“Twenty-nine years ago.”
Then she whispered:
“Carol, before you decide what to do about the house, you need to know what happened to the daughter you were never told about.”
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