Chapter 8
“What?” I said.
Richard sighed.
“Your mother contacted me first,” he admitted. “Six months ago. She was dying, Michael. The doctors gave her a year. Maybe less. She said she couldn’t take the secret to her grave. She told me everything. About the accident. About taking you. About the money.”
I stared at him.
“She contacted you?”
“She wanted to make things right,” he said. “Before she died. She asked me to wait. To let her tell you in her own time. But then she started moving assets. Trying to put everything in your name in a way that would protect it from me. I couldn’t let that happen. Not when the money was meant for you all along.”
“So the lawsuit? The timing? You forced her hand.”
“I forced the truth out,” he said. “Same thing, in the end.”
I stood up.
I walked to the window.
Outside, the neighbors were watering their lawns.
Walking their dogs.
Living their normal, honest lives.
While mine had just exploded into a million pieces.
“Why didn’t she tell me?” I whispered. “Thirty-four years. Why not just tell me the truth?”
“Because she was terrified,” Richard said. “Terrified you’d hate her. Terrified you’d leave. Terrified the police would come and take you away. People do terrible things out of fear, Michael. And love. The two together? They’ll make you burn the whole world down just to keep what you love safe.”
I thought about my mother.
All those years.
Waking up every morning wondering if today was the day the police knocked.
Wondering if I’d find out.
Wondering if I’d stop loving her.
Thirty-four years of looking over her shoulder.
Thirty-four years of loving a child who was never legally hers.
I turned back to Richard.
“What happens now?” I asked.
“Now,” he said, “we make this right. We file the paperwork to legally change your name back to Carter. We transfer all the assets. We introduce you to the family. We… we try to build something real. Something that isn’t based on lies.”
He reached into his briefcase again.
Pulled out a photo.
Handed it to me.
It was a young couple.
Holding a newborn.
The man had my eyes.
The woman had my smile.
“David and Linda,” he said. “Your parents. They were good people. The best. They would’ve loved you more than anything.”
I held the photo.
For the first time all day, I cried.
Not from anger.
Not from shock.
From grief.
Grief for the parents I’d never known.
Grief for the childhood I’d lost.
Grief for the mother I’d had—who loved me, yes, but had stolen me.
Grief for the wife I’d thought I had.
Everything was gone.
Everything except…
I looked at Richard.
A stranger with my eyes.
Forty-two million dollars.
And a whole new life waiting for me.
Rachel came down the stairs then.
Two suitcases.
She set them by the door.
“Michael,” she said. “Before I go. I need you to know something.”
I didn’t look at her.
“I really did love you,” she said. “At first. Before I knew. But then… when I found out about the lie? About the money? It changed everything. I started looking at you differently. At everything. And I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”
May you like
She paused.
“Also,” she said, her voice dropping. “There’s one more thing you should know.”
