Chapter 10: The Secret Behind Brittany's Birth
“Brittany was adopted?””
I stared at Dad, waiting for him to explain why that mattered.
He looked as though someone had knocked the air out of him.
“Yes,” he said.
“Vanessa told me she adopted Brittany when she was a baby. She said the biological father had abandoned them before Brittany was born.””
“Then why is she holding Mom's key?””
“I don't know.””
“Could Brittany be connected to Mom somehow?””
Dad looked toward Daniel, who had already taken out his phone.
“We need to establish where that photograph came from,” Daniel said.
“And we need to stop treating anonymous messages as proven facts.””
Dad nodded, but his hands were shaking.
We returned to Daniel's office, where he arranged for a copy of the photograph to be preserved with the other evidence. He also contacted the investigator handling the disputed property records.
I sat on the sofa, staring at the image.
Brittany stood on our front porch wearing a white sweater and jeans. The little gold key rested between her fingers. She was smiling, but not the careless smile I remembered from the kitchen.
This smile looked deliberate.
As if she knew exactly what she was holding.
“Dad,” I said, “when did you and Vanessa meet?””
“Six years ago.””
“And Brittany was already part of her life?””
“Yes. She was three.””
“Did you ever meet Brittany's biological father?””
“No. Vanessa said he wanted nothing to do with her.””
I looked down at my hands.
“Did you ever see adoption papers?””
Dad frowned.
“I saw some paperwork when Vanessa and I married. I didn't examine every document. I trusted her.””
The word hung between us.
Trusted.
It seemed to be the one mistake everyone in our family had made.
Daniel returned from his desk with a notepad.
“Michael, I recommend we request the original adoption records through the appropriate legal channels. We shouldn't contact Brittany directly until we know more.””
Dad nodded.
But I couldn't stop thinking about the key.
“Could we ask Brittany where she got it?””
Daniel considered that.
“Not yet. If Vanessa is controlling the situation, we don't want to alert her to what we know.””
I leaned back against the sofa.
“So we just wait?””
“We preserve the evidence, follow the legal process, and protect you,” Daniel answered.
“That is not the same as doing nothing.””
I understood what he meant.
I still hated it.
That evening, Dad drove me to Rachel's house. Before I got out of the car, he turned off the engine and faced me.
“Emily, I need you to promise me something.””
“What?””
“If Vanessa contacts you, don't meet her alone. Don't sign anything. Don't agree to anything she asks.””
“I won't.””
He looked toward the house.
“And if Brittany contacts you, tell me immediately.””
I hesitated.
“Dad, Brittany was cruel to me, but what if she doesn't know what Vanessa is doing?””
“Then we'll discover that.””
He took my hand.
“But you are not responsible for protecting either of them from the consequences of their choices.””
I nodded.
He kissed my forehead and watched until Rachel opened the door.
Inside, my aunt had spread the papers from Mom's box across the dining table. She'd also found a small notebook tucked beneath the lining of the wooden case.
“Emily, come look at this.””
I pulled out a chair.
The notebook contained several pages of dates and initials. Most of it looked like ordinary bookkeeping, but one entry appeared repeatedly.
*B.C. — October 14.*
Rachel tapped the page.
“Your mother wrote this date on several documents.””
“That's the date on the envelope Vanessa had,” I said.
“Exactly.””
I examined the initials.
“B.C. Could that mean Brittany Carter?””
Rachel shook her head.
“Your mother never called Brittany that. She was still a baby when your mother died, and your mother had never met her, as far as I knew.””
I stared at the page.
“What if the initials mean something else?””
Rachel turned another sheet.
At the bottom, Mom had written a sentence in her familiar blue handwriting.
The child deserves the truth, even if the adults cannot bear it.
My chest tightened.
“What child?””
Rachel didn't answer.
She called Dad, and he returned to the house twenty minutes later. He examined the notebook and photographed every page.
“This could be important,” he said.
“But we need someone to interpret the financial references.””
He called Daniel, who promised to arrange a review.
While Dad was speaking, my phone buzzed.
A message from Brittany.
*We need to talk. Don't tell Mom.*
I showed Dad.
He read it twice.
“Don't answer yet.””
Another message arrived.
*I know what she did to you. I didn't know she would leave you out there that long.*
My heart pounded.
I typed a response before Dad could stop me.
*Where did you get the key?*
The typing indicator appeared.
Disappeared.
Appeared again.
Finally, Brittany answered.
*It was in Mom's jewelry box. She told me it belonged to my birth mother.*
I looked at Dad.
He leaned closer to read the message.
*What does your birth mother have to do with my mother?* I typed.
Brittany's reply came almost immediately.
*I don't know everything. But Mom told me never to let you see the letter.*
My fingers went numb.
Dad reached for the phone.
“Ask her where she is.””
I typed the question.
Brittany sent an address.
Then another message appeared.
*Emily, please come alone. If Mom finds out I've told you, she'll destroy the only proof I have that she lied to me, too.*
Dad shook his head.
“No.””
“But Dad—”
“Absolutely not. We're not putting you in danger.””
He took my phone and typed a reply with my permission.
*We're willing to talk, but it will be with a trusted adult present.*
Brittany didn't respond.
For nearly five minutes, the screen remained blank.
Then one final message appeared.
*Tell Dad to check the hospital records from October 14, 2006. He'll understand why Mom never wanted us to meet.*
Dad went completely still.
He read the date again.
October 14, 2006.
The year I was born.
“What happened that day?”” I asked.
Dad slowly lowered the phone.
“That was the day your mother gave birth to you.””
May you like
He looked toward Rachel, then back at me.
“And according to the hospital records, your mother wasn't the only woman who gave birth that day.””
