Chapter 8
I couldn’t sleep that night.
My mind raced with possibilities.
I’d met Victoria at a coffee shop near my workshop. She’d been working as a waitress there, pregnant and desperate. We’d talked. She’d told me about Raymond abandoning her. I’d felt sorry for her. I’d offered to help.
We’d started dating. We’d gotten married when Sabrina was six months old.
But what if...
What if I’d met Victoria before she’d said I had?
What if the baby was mine?
I got out of bed and went to the attic. I pulled down the old boxes of photographs and letters from the early days of our relationship.
I found the first letter Victoria had ever written me. Dated three months before she’d told me she’d been abandoned by Raymond.
She’d written about how much she’d enjoyed our date. How kind I was. How she hoped to see me again.
But I’d thought we’d met after Raymond left.
Had she lied about the timeline?
I found more evidence. Restaurant receipts. Movie ticket stubs. All dated earlier than the story she’d told me.
Victoria had been seeing me while she was still with Raymond.
And then, when she’d gotten pregnant, she’d told Raymond the baby was his. When he’d left, she’d come to me, telling me a different story—that Raymond had abandoned her, that the baby was his, that she needed help.
She’d manipulated both of us.
But the paternity test had shown Raymond wasn’t the father.
Which meant...
Sabrina could be mine.
I called Eleanor first thing in the morning.
“I need a paternity test,” I said. “For Sabrina and me.”
“Glenn, are you sure about this?” Eleanor asked. “This could change everything.”
“I need to know the truth,” I said.
“Sabrina is on her honeymoon,” she said. “She won’t be back for two weeks.”
“I’ll wait,” I said.
But waiting was agony.
I went to work every day, sewing suits for my customers. My hands moved automatically, but my mind was elsewhere.
What if Sabrina was really my daughter? My biological daughter?
Nineteen years of raising her. Loving her. Providing for her. And all along, she might have been mine by blood as well as by choice.
But what if she wasn’t?
What if the father was one of those other men Victoria had named? Men who were now dead. Men who’d never known they had a daughter.
Either way, Victoria had lied. For nineteen years. She’d lied to me. She’d lied to Raymond. She’d lied to Sabrina.
She’d let me believe I was raising another man’s child. She’d let Sabrina believe Raymond was her biological father. She’d used that lie to manipulate both of us.
And for what?
Money. Control. Power.
She’d pitted me against Raymond. She’d used Sabrina as a pawn. She’d stolen from me to pay Raymond, all while knowing he wasn’t even the father.
The level of deception was staggering.
Two weeks later, Sabrina and Logan returned from their honeymoon.
Sabrina called me the day they got back.
“Dad,” she said. “We’re home. Can we come over for dinner? I want to tell you all about the trip.”
“Actually,” I said. “I need to talk to you about something important. Can you come over alone first? Just for an hour.”
“Is everything okay?” she asked, concern in her voice.
“Everything is fine,” I said. “I just need to talk to you about something I discovered. About your mother. And about Raymond.”
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll be there in an hour.”
When she arrived, I could tell she was nervous.
We sat in the living room. I’d laid out the documents on the coffee table—the court records, the paternity test results, the old photographs.
“What is all this?” she asked.
“Six years ago,” I said, “your mother filed a paternity suit against Raymond. She wanted him to pay child support. The court ordered a DNA test.”
Sabrina’s face went pale.
“And?”
“The test came back negative,” I said. “Raymond is not your biological father.”
Sabrina stared at me in shock.
“That’s... that’s impossible,” she said. “Mom always said...”
“Your mother lied,” I said. “She’s known the truth for six years. And she never told you. She never told anyone. She let you believe Raymond was your father. She used that to manipulate you. To turn you against me.”
Sabrina picked up the court documents with trembling hands. She read through them quickly, her eyes widening as she absorbed the truth.
“If Raymond isn’t my father...” she said slowly. “Then who is?”
“That’s what I need to find out,” I said. “I believe there’s a possibility... that it could be me.”
Sabrina dropped the papers.
She stared at me.
“What?”
“Your mother lied about when we met,” I said. “I found evidence that we were seeing each other before she says Raymond left her. And the other potential fathers she named in court... they’re both dead. And the timeline... it fits.”
Sabrina was silent for a long time.
“You want me to take a paternity test,” she said finally.
“I want to know the truth,” I said. “Whatever it is. You’re my daughter, Sabrina. You always will be. Nothing can change that. But I think we both deserve to know.”
May you like
She nodded slowly.
“Okay,” she said. “Let’s do it.”
