Daniel went completely still.
Because the voice coming from the other side was one he recognized.
And so did I.
It was my mother’s voice.
“Please open the door,” she said.
Then came the words that made my heart stop.
“I know you found Fabian. And before you tell him the truth, there’s something I need to confess.”
PART 3: MY MOTHER FINALLY REVEALED THE TRUTH
For several seconds, nobody moved.
I stared at the hospital room door, unable to believe what I had just heard.
My mother.
The woman who had stood beside my hospital bed thirty-one years earlier and watched me sign away my newborn son.
The woman who had held my hand while I cried, promising that everything would be all right.
The woman who had spent three decades telling me she knew nothing about Fabian.
She was standing outside my room.
And she knew he was there.
Daniel looked at me.
“Do you want me to ask her to leave?”
I shook my head.
“No. I’ve waited thirty-one years for answers. I’m not running away now.”
He slowly opened the door.
My mother stood in the hallway, wearing her old beige coat. Her hair had turned completely white, and she looked much smaller than I remembered.
But her eyes were exactly the same.
The moment she saw Daniel, she covered her mouth.
“Oh, my God,” she whispered.
Daniel didn’t move.
“Do you know who I am?”
My mother began crying.
“Yes.”
One word.
That’s all she said.
I felt something inside me break.
“You knew?”
She turned toward me.
I could barely recognize the woman looking back at me.
“Please, sweetheart. Let me explain.”
“Don’t call me sweetheart.”
My voice was louder than I expected.
“Not until you tell me why you let me spend thirty-one years searching for a child you apparently knew was alive.”
She lowered her head.
Daniel stepped between us.
“Ma’am, I think you owe both of us the truth.”
My mother nodded.
Then she reached into her handbag and pulled out a small photograph.
She placed it on the table beside my hospital bed.
It was a picture of a baby.
A tiny boy wrapped in a white blanket.
Around his wrist was a hospital identification bracelet.
I recognized the blanket immediately.
It was the same blanket I had tucked the silver cross into.
My hands began shaking.
“Where did you get that?”
My mother sat down.
“I kept it all these years.”
“Why?”
“Because I couldn’t throw away the only photograph I had of my grandson.”
I stared at her.
“You couldn’t throw away a photograph, but you could throw away his mother?”
She started sobbing.
Daniel picked up the photograph.
“That’s me, isn’t it?”
My mother nodded.
“Yes, Fabian. That’s you.”
He closed his eyes.
For a moment, he looked like a little boy waiting for someone to tell him he was loved.
Then he asked the question I had been too frightened to ask.
“Why did you give me away?”
My mother pressed both hands against her face.
“Your grandfather believed he was protecting the family.”
Daniel’s expression hardened.
“Protecting it from what?”
She looked at me.
And then she finally said the words I had never expected to hear.
“Your biological father.”
I felt my entire body go cold.
Daniel turned toward me.
“Mom, who was my father?”
I swallowed.
There was no point hiding it anymore.
“His name was Michael.”
My mother looked shocked.
“You never told him?”
I stared at her.
“You made sure I never had the chance.”
Daniel pulled a chair closer.
“Who was Michael?”
I took a deep breath.
“Michael was eighteen too. We were in love. He wanted to marry me. He wanted to raise you. But my father hated him.”
“Why?”
I looked down at my hands.
“Because Michael came from a poor family. My father believed he wasn’t good enough for me.”
My mother shook her head.
“That wasn’t the only reason.”
I turned toward her.
“What are you talking about?”
She hesitated.
Then she continued.
“Your father discovered something about Michael’s family. Something he believed could destroy our family.”
“What thing?”
My mother looked at Daniel.
“Michael wasn’t just a young man from a poor family. His father owned a business with your grandfather. They had a disagreement over money, and your grandfather believed Michael’s family had ruined him financially.”
Daniel frowned.
“That still doesn’t explain why I was taken.”
My mother nodded.
“You’re right. It doesn’t.”
She reached into her handbag again.
This time, she removed a second envelope.
It was much older than the first.
The edges were worn, and the paper had turned brown.
“I found this after your grandfather died,” she said. “I was going to tell you everything, but I was afraid.”
“Afraid of what?” I asked.
She looked directly at me.
“That the truth would destroy what was left of our family.”
I laughed bitterly.
“What family? You already destroyed mine.”
She didn’t argue.
Instead, she handed the envelope to Daniel.
Inside was a photograph of a young man standing beside a car.
I recognized him immediately.
Michael.
He was smiling, one arm resting on the car door.
I had not seen his face in more than thirty years.
Daniel studied the photograph.
Then he looked at me.
“Is this my father?”
I nodded.
He stared at it for a long time.
Then he turned the photograph over.
There was writing on the back.
Michael and his son. Someday, we’ll be together.
Daniel looked confused.
“His son?”
My mother nodded.
“Michael believed you were his son, and he wanted to raise you.”
“Did he ever try to find me?”
My mother began crying harder.
“Yes.”
The room became completely silent.
Daniel stood up.
“How many times?”
“Many times.”
“Did he know I was adopted?”
She nodded.
“Yes.”
“Then why didn’t he come for me?”
My mother looked at me.
And for the first time, I saw genuine terror in her expression.
“Because your grandfather told him that you had died.”
Daniel staggered backward.
I grabbed the bedsheet.
“What?”
My mother covered her face.
“Your father told Michael that the baby had developed serious complications after birth. He said you hadn’t survived.”
I couldn’t breathe.
Daniel looked as though the floor had disappeared beneath his feet.
“He told my father I was dead?”
My mother nodded.
“And he told you that Michael had abandoned you.”
I started crying.
For thirty-one years, I had believed Michael had disappeared because he didn’t want us.
I had wondered whether he ever thought about me.
Whether he had another family.
Whether he remembered the promises he had made.
But he had been looking for our son.
Just as I had.
And my father had made sure neither of us could find him.
Daniel slowly sat down.
“Where is he now?”
My mother looked away.
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not.”
Daniel’s voice cracked.
“Did he ever find out I was alive?”
She remained silent.
I reached for her hand.
“Mom. Look at me.”
She finally raised her eyes.
“Did Michael ever know that Fabian survived?”
My mother opened her mouth, but no words came out.
Then she whispered:
“Yes.”
Daniel froze.
I felt my heart begin pounding again.
“When?”
My mother looked at the photograph.
“About ten years ago.”
“Ten years?” I repeated.
“Yes. He received a letter from someone who had discovered the adoption records. He came to see your father.”
“Who sent him the letter?”
She shook her head.
“I never found out.”
Daniel stood up.
“Where is Michael now?”
My mother reached into her handbag for the third time.
This time, she pulled out a folded piece of paper.
“I kept his last address.”
Daniel snatched it gently from her hands.
He read the address.
Then he looked at me.
Something changed in his face.
“Mom…”
“What?”
He handed me the paper.
It was an address in the same city.
And underneath it was a name.
Michael Anderson.
I stared at it, crying.
“He’s still here?”
Daniel nodded.
Then my mother said something that made the entire room go silent.
“There’s one more thing you both need to know.”
I closed my eyes.
I couldn’t imagine what else she could possibly reveal.
But she continued.
“Michael didn’t just disappear after your father told him the baby had died. He kept looking. And when he finally discovered that Fabian was alive, he tried to contact him.”
