Chapter 7
I hung up.
Grace stared at me.
“Was that him?”
I couldn’t lie anymore.
“Yes.”
Her hand tightened around mine.
“What did he say?”
“He wants to meet you.”
She pulled her hand away.
My heart dropped.
“Do you want to?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s okay.”
“Did you hate him?”
The question surprised me.
“At the end? Yes.”
“And before?”
“No.”
I swallowed.
“That’s what made leaving difficult.”
Grace stared at the floor.
“What if he changed?”
“Maybe he did.”
“You don’t believe that.”
“I believe people can change.”
“But?”
“But I don’t believe we owe them trust before they prove it.”
She nodded.
Daniel appeared in the doorway.
“We need to go.”
I told him about the call.
His reaction was immediate.
“No contact.”
Grace stood.
“Dad.”
“No.”
“You don’t get to decide everything.”
“I absolutely get to decide whether an adult man with a history of fraud and abuse gets access to my sixteen-year-old daughter.”
“He’s my biological father.”
“I am your father.”
The second he said it, he regretted the tone.
Grace stepped back.
“I know.”
Daniel softened.
“Grace.”
“I know you’re my dad.”
Her eyes filled.
“But I’m allowed to wonder about him.”
Daniel rubbed his face.
“You are.”
“Then stop acting like questions mean I love you less.”
Daniel’s eyes filled too.
“I’m terrified of losing you.”
Grace whispered, “You already lost Mom. I’m not her.”
His shoulders dropped.
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
She walked past him.
He turned toward me helplessly.
“I don’t know how to do this anymore.”
“You don’t have to do it perfectly.”
He laughed bitterly.
“That sounds like something Sarah would say.”
We drove to Daniel’s house in two cars.
He lived forty minutes away in a quiet neighborhood.
The second I walked inside, I saw Grace’s life.
School photographs.
Soccer trophies.
A framed drawing from kindergarten.
A photograph of Sarah holding Grace at the beach.
My chest tightened.
Sarah was beautiful.
Warm smile.
Red hair.
She had raised my daughter.
Held her through fevers.
Packed her lunches.
Helped with homework.
Kissed scraped knees.
Stayed awake on bad nights.
I touched the photograph gently.
“That was her favorite picture,” Daniel said.
“She looks happy.”
“She was.”
Grace stood behind us.
“Mom hated that swimsuit.”
Daniel smiled.
“She complained about it all day.”
Grace almost smiled too.
Then she looked at me.
“Did you ever imagine her?”
“Who?”
“Mom.”
“All the time.”
“What did you imagine?”
“Someone kind.”
Grace looked at Sarah’s picture.
“She was.”
“I’m glad.”
Those two words were the most honest thing I had said all day.
My phone buzzed.
A text from Michael.
Please tell me where you are.
I ignored it.
Another.
Ryan called Mom.
I froze.
I typed back.
What?
Michael replied immediately.
He wants Grace.
My stomach turned.
I called him.
“What happened?”
Michael sounded breathless.
“He called Mom ten minutes ago.”
“How did he get her number?”
“I don’t know.”
“What did he say?”
“He said Grace belongs with her real parents.”
I looked at Daniel.
He saw my expression.
“What?”
I put the call on speaker.
Michael continued.
“He says Daniel has no right to keep her away from him.”
Daniel’s face hardened.
“I have every legal right.”
Michael heard him.
“You’re with Daniel?”
“Focus.”
“I am focused.”
“No, Michael. For once, just tell me the facts.”
“He wants a meeting.”
“He’s not getting one tonight.”
“He said he knows Grace came here.”
My blood went cold.
Daniel stepped closer.
“How?”
Michael went silent.
“Michael.”
“I don’t know.”
Then Grace walked into the room.
“What’s happening?”
I ended the call.
“Ryan knows you came to see me.”
“How?”
“We don’t know.”
Her phone buzzed.
She looked down.
Her face changed.
“Grace?”
She turned the screen toward us.
A Facebook message.
From an account named Ryan C. Hale.
I’m sorry it took me sixteen years to find you.
Daniel reached for the phone.
Grace pulled it back.
“No.”
“Grace.”
“He hasn’t done anything.”
“He contacted a minor without permission.”
“He’s my father.”
“Biologically.”
“That still means something to me.”
Daniel flinched.
I stepped between them.
“Can I see the message?”
Grace handed me the phone.
Another appeared.
Your mother kept you from me.
My hands started shaking.
Then another.
I never agreed to the adoption.
“That’s a lie,” I whispered.
Grace looked at me.
“What?”
“He signed papers.”
Daniel frowned.
“You told me he denied paternity.”
“He did. Then he threatened custody.”
“Did he sign?”
“Yes.”
Grace held out her hand.
I gave the phone back.
She typed.
Daniel said, “What are you doing?”
“Asking him.”
“Grace.”
She sent the message.
Did you sign away your rights?
The answer came almost immediately.
Your mother forced me.
I laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because it was absurd.
“I was eighteen and living above a laundromat. He had an attorney.”
Grace watched me.
“What happened exactly?”
“I begged him to sign.”
Her expression changed.
“You begged him?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because he scared me.”
“Did he hurt you?”
I hesitated.
That was enough.
Grace’s face went pale.
“What did he do?”
Daniel said quietly, “You don’t have to answer.”
“No.”
I looked at Grace.
“I do.”
My throat tightened.
“The night I told Ryan I was leaving him, he punched a hole through my apartment door.”
Grace stared.
“A week later, he followed me home from work.”
I forced myself to continue.
“He grabbed my arm hard enough to bruise it. He told me if I had his baby, he would make sure I never raised it without him.”
Tears filled her eyes.
“I was scared he would use you to control me forever.”
Her phone buzzed again.
This time the message was different.
Ask your mother why she really took money from me before you were born.
I stared at it.
“What money?”
Grace looked at me.
“I don’t know.”
Another message.
$25,000.
Daniel turned toward me.
“Emily?”
“I never took money from him.”
Grace typed.
She didn’t take your money.
Ryan replied.
Not directly.
Ask about the adoption payment.
My stomach dropped.
Private adoption expenses.
Medical bills.
Attorney fees.
Housing assistance during pregnancy.
All legal.
All arranged through the agency.
But Ryan was twisting it.
“He’s making it sound like I sold you.”
Grace’s face went white.
“Did they pay you?”
“No.”
“Did Dad and Mom give you money?”
“They paid permitted pregnancy expenses through the agency.”
“How much?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“I never received twenty-five thousand dollars.”
Daniel looked shaken.
“I have the records.”
“Get them.”
He walked toward his office.
Then the doorbell rang.
All three of us froze.
Daniel looked at the security camera on his phone.
His face changed.
“No.”
“Who is it?” Grace whispered.
He turned the screen toward me.
May you like
Michael stood on the porch.
And beside him was Linda.
