Chapter 9: The Child Hidden in the Past
The hospital record was dated twenty years earlier.
Before Maya.
Before Jordan.
Before me.
I stared at the name.
*Lucas Reed.*
A child I had never heard of.
I looked at Nicole.
“Who is Lucas?””
Her face lost all color.
She didn’t ask how I knew.
She already knew.
“He told you.””
I held up the phone.
“Who is he?””
Nicole sat down.
For a long time, she said nothing.
Then she whispered:
“My first son.””
The words were almost too quiet to hear.
I looked at Maya.
She was crying silently.
“How many secrets are there in this family?””
Nicole closed her eyes.
“I’m sorry.””
I shook my head.
“I don’t want an apology.””
I pointed at the phone.
“I want the truth.””
She nodded.
“Lucas was my first child.””
“What happened to him?””
Nicole looked toward the window.
“He died.””
The anger inside me paused.
Not disappeared.
Paused.
“How?””
“He was sick.””
“What kind of sick?””
She wiped her face.
“He had a heart condition.””
The room became quiet.
“I was seventeen,” Nicole said.
“I had no money. No support. Daniel was gone most of the time.””
“Daniel abandoned you?””
She nodded.
“He told me children were my responsibility.””
My hands tightened.
“And after Lucas died?””
“I changed.””
“How?””
“I promised myself I would never lose another child.””
Suddenly, I understood.
Not everything.
But enough.
Jordan’s anxiety.
Her fear.
Her obsession with protecting him.
Nicole wasn’t just being controlling.
She was haunted.
But she had allowed that fear to destroy everyone around her.
“I understand why you were scared,” I said.
She looked up.
“But?””
“But you used Maya as a shield.””
Her face fell.
“I know.””
“You made her carry your fear.””
“I know.””
“You made me a stranger in my own family.””
Tears filled her eyes.
“I know.””
For once, she didn’t fight.
That somehow hurt more.
Later that evening, I found Maya sitting on the porch.
I sat beside her.
“You okay?””
She shrugged.
“Not really.””
I nodded.
“Me neither.””
She looked at me.
“Are you going to leave?””
The question again.
“No.””
“Even after everything?””
I looked at the house.
At the place where so many lies had lived.
“I don’t know what happens with your mother and me.””
Maya looked down.
“But?””
“But I know one thing.””
“What?””
“You’re my daughter.””
She smiled weakly.
“Even if the test says otherwise?””
“Especially then.””
A week later, the DNA results arrived.
The envelope sat on the kitchen table.
Nobody wanted to open it.
Not me.
Not Nicole.
Not Maya.
Not Jordan.
Finally, I picked it up.
I opened the paper.
My eyes moved across the page.
And I stopped.
Because the results answered one question.
But they created another.
The test confirmed Maya was not biologically mine.
But the second page contained a note from the laboratory.
A note that shouldn’t have existed.
A note that meant someone had interfered with the test before it ever reached us.
And at the bottom of the page was a signature.
May you like
The signature of the person who had requested the change.
Ethan.
