Chapter 11: The Son Who Didn't Know His Name
The address Linda gave me belonged to a narrow brick townhouse in Boston's South End.
It was nearly eight in the evening when we arrived. Rain streaked the windshield, and the streetlights cast long reflections across the pavement.
Thomas insisted on coming with us.
I hadn't forgiven him for his silence, but I couldn't deny that he was the only person who might understand what our son had been told.
Maya sat beside me, clutching the yellow-blanket photograph.
“Do you think he'll look like me?”” she asked.
I glanced at her.
“Probably.””
“What if he doesn't want to meet us?””
“Then we'll respect his decision.””
She nodded, but her fingers tightened around the photograph.
I parked outside the townhouse.
A light glowed in an upstairs window.
Thomas looked at the building.
“This is it.””
I climbed the steps and knocked.
Nothing happened.
I knocked again.
Footsteps approached from inside.
The door opened.
A young man stood in the doorway wearing a charcoal sweater and dark jeans. He had brown eyes, a small scar near his eyebrow, and a tired expression that reminded me painfully of Thomas.
He looked at me, then at Maya.
“Can I help you?””
I had rehearsed a dozen introductions during the drive.
Every single one disappeared.
“My name is Renee Collins,” I said.
“And I think you deserve to know something about your family.””
His expression became guarded.
“If this is about Daniel, you need to leave.””
My heart skipped.
“You know Daniel Bennett?””
“He's been my legal guardian since I was a kid.””
“Your legal guardian?””
He gave a humorless laugh.
“That's what the paperwork says.””
Thomas stepped forward.
“What's your name?””
The young man stared at him.
“Ethan Bennett.””
Thomas's face went pale.
I looked at the young man again.
“Ethan, how old are you?””
“Thirteen.””
The number struck me like a physical blow.
My son was thirteen.
Maya was thirteen.
They had been born five minutes apart, and the young man standing in front of me had spent his entire life believing he was someone else's child.
I held out the photograph.
“Do you recognize this?””
Ethan glanced down.
His expression changed.
“Where did you get that?””
“It was taken the night you were born.””
He looked up sharply.
“What are you talking about?””
I forced myself to speak slowly.
“You were born thirteen years ago at Westbrook Medical Center. Your birth record identifies you as Baby B. Your biological mother is me.””
Ethan stared at me.
Then he laughed.
Not because anything was funny.
Because the alternative was to believe the impossible.
“No.””
I nodded through my tears.
“You have a twin sister. Her name is Maya.””
Maya stepped forward.
“Hi.””
Ethan looked at her.
For a long moment, neither child spoke.
Then Ethan noticed the small crescent-shaped scar near Maya's chin.
He touched his own chin.
He had the same mark.
“That's impossible,” he whispered.
Thomas held out the copy of the adoption agreement.
“Your father is Thomas Reed. I'm sorry we weren't there for you.””
Ethan stared at him.
“My father died before I was born.””
“That's what you were told.””
“And my mother?””
I swallowed.
“I'm standing right here.””
Ethan backed into the hallway.
“No. No, this is crazy.””
He shook his head violently.
“Daniel said my parents were killed in a car accident. He showed me photographs. He took me to a cemetery.””
Thomas's expression hardened.
“Whose graves?””
“I don't know. He said they were buried in another state.””
I felt my stomach turn.
Daniel hadn't merely hidden Ethan's identity.
He had created an entire false history.
Ethan looked at me again.
“Why would he do that?””
I couldn't give him an answer that would make sense of thirteen stolen years.
“Because the people responsible for raising you made choices that never should have been theirs to make.””
He stared at the photograph.
Then he whispered, “I knew something was wrong.””
“What do you mean?””
Ethan stepped aside and allowed us into the townhouse.
The living room was neat but strangely impersonal. There were no family photographs on the walls, no birthday pictures, no school portraits.
Only a framed image of Daniel Bennett standing beside a younger Ethan at a formal event.
Ethan led us upstairs to his bedroom.
He opened a drawer and pulled out a small metal box.
Inside were letters, school records, and several photographs.
“I found these six months ago,” he said.
“I wasn't supposed to look through Daniel's office, but I was searching for my birth certificate.””
He handed me a photograph.
It showed Linda holding a newborn baby.
On the back, in her handwriting, were the words:
*My beautiful boy. One day, you'll know why I couldn't keep you.*
I pressed the picture against my chest.
Ethan watched me carefully.
“You recognize her?””
“She's my sister.””
He looked sick.
“Daniel told me she was a distant relative who helped arrange my adoption.””
“She was your biological aunt.””
“And she stole me?””
I couldn't lie.
“Yes.””
Ethan sat on the edge of his bed.
For several seconds, he didn't move.
Then he asked, “Did you look for me?””
The question nearly broke me.
“Not because I knew you were alive. I was told you died during childbirth.””
His eyes filled.
“So you didn't know I existed?””
“I didn't know you survived.””
He looked at Thomas.
“And you?””
Thomas lowered his head.
“I knew there was another baby. I believed he had died. I should have questioned the story. I should have kept looking.””
Ethan wiped his eyes angrily.
“Everyone made decisions about me without asking what I wanted.””
Maya sat beside him.
“I know what that's like.””
He glanced at her.
She offered him the photograph of the two babies in their hospital bassinets.
“I've been scared for weeks,” she said.
“Aunt Linda kept telling me not to talk about the past. She made me think something terrible would happen if I told Mom what I knew.””
Ethan studied the photograph.
Then he looked at Maya.
“You have the same birthday as me?””
She nodded.
“Same hospital. Five minutes apart.””
He gave a small, disbelieving laugh.
“Five minutes?””
“Grandma wrote it in her notebook.””
For the first time, Ethan smiled.
It was a small, uncertain smile, but it made him look exactly like the little boy I had never been allowed to know.
Then his expression changed.
He reached into the metal box and pulled out a sealed envelope.
“This came in the mail yesterday.””
I recognized the handwriting immediately.
Linda.
The envelope was addressed to Ethan, with one sentence written across the front.
*If Renee Collins ever finds you, do not believe what she says about your father.*
I opened it.
Inside was a single page.
It claimed Thomas had been responsible for the accident that supposedly killed Ethan's biological parents.
But the signature at the bottom wasn't Linda's.
It was Daniel Bennett's.
Thomas stared at the letter.
“He's trying to make Ethan believe I murdered his parents.””
Ethan looked between us.
“Did you?””
“No,” Thomas said firmly.
“I didn't.””
Ethan's hands began to shake.
“Then why does Daniel have a photograph of you standing beside a wrecked car?””
Thomas went completely still.
“What photograph?””
Ethan pulled out his phone and showed us an image.
Thomas stood beside a mangled sedan, his face streaked with blood. A police officer stood behind him.
The timestamp showed the date Maya and Ethan were born.
I stared at Thomas.
“Why were you at a car accident the night our children were born?””
Thomas swallowed hard.
“Because the accident wasn't an accident.””
Before anyone could respond, the front door slammed downstairs.
Footsteps pounded up the stairs.
Daniel Bennett appeared in the doorway.
He looked at Ethan, then at the photograph in my hand.
His expression turned murderous.
“Give me that letter,” he said.
Ethan stood.
“No.””
Daniel took another step.
“Ethan, you don't understand what these people are trying to do.””
For the first time, my son looked him directly in the eye.
“Yes, I do.””
He held up the photograph of the two newborn babies.
“They're my family.””
Daniel's face twisted.
Then he reached inside his coat and pulled out a document.
“Not anymore,” he said.
“Because tomorrow morning, the court will decide who gets to keep Maya—and who gets to control the trust.””
He placed the document on Ethan's desk.
May you like
It was a signed affidavit.
And the final paragraph claimed that Thomas Reed had deliberately arranged the accident that killed his own children.
