Chapter 10
It started with a letter.
Addressed to Sabrina. Postmarked from a town two hours away.
Sabrina brought it over one Sunday, looking confused.
“I don’t know anyone in that area,” she said.
She opened it. Inside was a handwritten letter and an old photograph.
Sabrina read the letter, her face going through a range of emotions—confusion, shock, disbelief.
“What is it?” I asked.
She handed me the letter.
I read it.
My hands started to shake.
The letter was from a woman named Margaret. She wrote that she’d been following the news of our family drama—someone had posted about the wedding incident on a local Facebook group, and it had gone viral.
Margaret wrote that she’d had a relationship with Victoria’s brother, Thomas, nearly twenty years ago. She’d gotten pregnant. Victoria had convinced her to give the baby up for adoption, saying she couldn’t provide for it.
But Margaret had recently discovered that the baby hadn’t been adopted at all.
Victoria had taken the baby.
And she’d raised it as her own.
The baby was Sabrina.
I looked at the photograph Margaret had included. It was a picture of a young woman who looked exactly like Sabrina. The same eyes. The same smile.
Margaret.
Sabrina’s biological mother.
I looked up at Sabrina. She was staring at the photograph, tears streaming down her face.
“I don’t understand,” she whispered.
The doorbell rang.
I opened it.
A woman stood on the porch, in her late forties, nervous and hopeful. She looked exactly like the woman in the photograph.
“Hi,” she said. “I’m Margaret. I got your address from the property records. I hope you don’t mind me just showing up, but I... I had to see her.”
I stepped aside to let her in.
Margaret walked into the living room and saw Sabrina.
They stared at each other.
For a long moment, no one spoke.
Then Margaret’s face crumpled.
“You look just like I imagined,” she said, her voice breaking.
Sabrina stood up slowly.
“Are you... are you my mother?” she whispered.
Margaret nodded.
“I am,” she said. “And I am so sorry. I should have fought for you. I should have never let Victoria take you.”
Sabrina walked toward her. They met in the middle of the room and hugged each other tightly, both of them crying.
I stood back, giving them space. My mind was reeling.
So Victoria wasn’t Sabrina’s mother either.
She’d stolen her. From her own brother’s girlfriend. She’d raised Sabrina as her own, lying to everyone—including me.
And she’d lied about the paternity too. She’d told me Sabrina was Raymond’s. She’d told Raymond the same thing. All to cover up the fact that she’d taken the baby from Margaret.
The depth of Victoria’s deception was almost impossible to comprehend.
After a while, Margaret and Sabrina sat down on the couch, holding hands. Margaret told her story.
“I was twenty-two,” she said. “I was dating Thomas—Victoria’s brother. I got pregnant. I was scared. I didn’t have much money. Victoria came to me and said she could help. She said she knew a family who wanted to adopt a baby. She said it would be better for everyone. I was young and stupid. I believed her.”
Margaret wiped tears from her eyes.
“I signed the papers she gave me,” she continued. “But they weren’t adoption papers. I found that out recently when I requested my records. Victoria forged the documents. She took you home and raised you as her own. She told everyone you were hers. She told Glenn you were Raymond’s. She built an entire life on a lie.”
Sabrina listened, absorbing every word.
“Why did you wait so long to find me?” she asked gently.
“I tried,” Margaret said. “A few years after I gave you up, I started asking questions. Victoria told me the adoptive family had moved overseas. She said they didn’t want any contact. I believed her. It wasn’t until last month, when I saw that story about the wedding on Facebook... I saw your picture. And I knew. You had my eyes. My smile. I hired a private investigator. And he found the truth.”
She turned to me.
“I’m so sorry, Glenn,” she said. “I had no idea Victoria was doing this to you too. You seem like a good man. You raised my daughter well.”
“I loved her as my own,” I said. “And the paternity test said...”
Margaret nodded.
“The investigator found that too,” she said. “Thomas... he’s not Sabrina’s father. I was seeing someone else around the same time. A man named... well, a man named Glenn.”
I stared at her.
She smiled sadly.
“Small world, isn’t it?” she said. “I met a man named Glenn at a party. We had a brief relationship. Then I met Thomas. When I got pregnant, I assumed it was Thomas’s. But the investigator did some digging. The Glenn I met... he was you.”
The room spun.
I thought back. Twenty years ago. A party I’d been dragged to by a friend. A woman named Margaret. We’d talked. We’d danced. We’d spent one night together.
I’d never seen her again.
Until now.
And she’d gotten pregnant.
And Victoria had found out. And she’d taken the baby. And she’d married me. And she’d raised our daughter as her own.
For nineteen years.
Victoria had orchestrated everything. She’d found out I’d gotten Margaret pregnant. She’d manipulated Margaret into giving up the baby. She’d taken Sabrina. Then she’d pursued me, married me, and raised our daughter while lying to both of us about who she really was.
All so she could have a family. All so she could have a husband who would work and provide. All so she could have control.
It was monstrous.
But it also meant something wonderful.
May you like
Sabrina was my daughter. And Margaret was her mother.
And against all odds, we’d found each other.
