Chapter 7: The Child My Mother Never Got to Hold
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
My father's final words kept repeating in my head.
There's a reason I never told you that she was pregnant again before she died.
I looked at Michael.
“Was my mother pregnant?””
He slowly removed his glasses.
“Emily, I never saw anything in her legal records indicating another pregnancy.””
“But you knew she was receiving medical treatment.””
“Yes. I knew about her heart condition. I also knew she had several consultations with specialists during the final months of her life.””
“Could she have been pregnant?””
“It's possible. But I would need to see the medical records.””
I sat down.
My mother had died when I was eleven.
I remembered her becoming increasingly tired. I remembered the hospital visits and the way my father would tell me not to worry.
I remembered sitting beside her bed, holding her hand.
But I didn't remember anyone mentioning a baby.
“Why would Dad hide something like that?””
Michael looked at me.
“That's precisely what we need to find out.””
My phone vibrated.
A message from my father.
Tomorrow. 9 a.m. Come alone. Bring nothing from Michael's office.
I showed Michael.
He shook his head.
“You are not going alone.””
“I need to see what he has.””
“We can arrange for the meeting to take place with legal representation present.””
I stared at the message.
“What if the letter is real?””
“Then it will still be real with me in the room.””
I nodded.
But something inside me told me the letter wasn't the only thing my father wanted to show me.
He was preparing something.
And whatever it was, he wanted me isolated.
At 8:45 the following morning, I arrived at the mansion with Michael and Jennifer.
My father was waiting in his study.
Vanessa sat beside him.
Brianna was standing near the window, holding a tablet.
The atmosphere felt more like a business negotiation than a family meeting.
My father looked at Michael.
“I specifically asked Emily to come alone.””
Michael remained standing.
“And I specifically advised her not to attend without legal representation.””
Robert sighed.
“Of course you did.””
I stepped forward.
“You said you had something from Mom.””
He opened a desk drawer.
Then he removed a cream-colored envelope.
My name was written across it.
I immediately recognized my mother's handwriting.
My knees almost gave way.
“Where did you get that?””
“Your mother gave it to me shortly before she died.””
Michael frowned.
“Catherine left all personal correspondence concerning Emily in my custody.””
Robert ignored him.
“This one was different.””
He slid the envelope across the desk.
I reached for it.
My father placed his hand over mine.
“Before you read it, I want you to understand something. Your mother was very ill. She wasn't thinking clearly toward the end.””
I pulled my hand away.
“Why does everyone keep saying that?””
“Because it's true.””
“Then let me read her letter.””
I opened the envelope.
Inside was a single handwritten page.
My darling Emily,
There are things I have not been able to tell you. I wanted to wait until you were older, but I am afraid time may not give me that opportunity.
My eyes filled.
I continued.
You are going to become a big sister. There is another little person coming into our family, and I know you will love them as much as I do.
I stopped.
A tear dropped onto the paper.
My mother had been expecting a baby.
I kept reading.
I have made arrangements to protect both of you. Whatever happens, I want you to remember that you are my first miracle, and no one will ever take your place in my heart.
At the bottom, she had written:
Your loving mother, Catherine.
I pressed the letter against my chest.
For a moment, the room disappeared.
I could almost hear her voice.
I could almost imagine her telling me I would have a little brother or sister.
Then I noticed something.
The letter ended abruptly.
There was no date.
No explanation.
No mention of what happened to the baby.
I looked at my father.
“What happened?””
He sat back.
“Your mother lost the pregnancy.””
“When?””
“Several weeks before she died.””
I stared.
“Why didn't you tell me?””
“You were a child.””
“I was eleven!””
“Exactly.””
“Did she know she was going to die?””
He looked away.
“Emily, the doctors were concerned about her condition.””
“That doesn't answer my question.””
Vanessa leaned forward.
“Robert did everything he could for Catherine.””
I turned toward her.
“I wasn't asking you.””
Her lips tightened.
My father stood.
“Your mother was devastated after the miscarriage. Her condition worsened. The stress was unbearable.””
Michael interrupted.
“Do you have the medical records documenting the pregnancy and miscarriage?””
Robert glared at him.
“Why would you need those?””
“Because you have introduced a significant new claim into an ongoing legal matter.””
My father laughed bitterly.
“Everything is a legal matter to you, isn't it?””
Michael remained calm.
“Not everything. But this certainly is.””
My father opened another drawer.
He removed a thin folder and threw it onto the desk.
“Here. Take whatever you want.””
Michael opened it.
The first page was a hospital discharge summary.
The second was a medical consultation.
The third was an ultrasound report.
I looked at the date.
My mother had been twelve weeks pregnant.
But something else caught my attention.
The report stated that the pregnancy had been progressing normally.
There was no indication of a miscarriage.
I looked up.
“Dad?””
He didn't answer.
“This says the baby was fine.””
He snatched the paper.
“That was an earlier report.””
“Where's the later one?””
“I don't have it.””
Michael examined the documents.
“Mr. Carter, these records are incomplete.””
My father shrugged.
“That's all I have.””
Then I noticed a handwritten notation at the bottom of the discharge summary.
Patient transferred to private care following family request.
I pointed to it.
“What does that mean?””
Michael read it.
His expression changed.
“Which private facility?””
My father remained silent.
I looked at him.
“Dad?””
He walked toward the window.
“I don't remember.””
I stared.
“You don't remember where my mother was treated?””
“It's been twelve years, Emily.””
Michael closed the folder.
“We will request the complete medical records.””
Robert turned sharply.
“You're not going to drag this family through another investigation.””
I looked at him.
“You dragged us through this. I just didn't know it.””
For a moment, he looked almost sorry.
Then Vanessa spoke.
“Robert, perhaps it's time she knew.””
He turned.
“Not now.””
Vanessa stood.
“She deserves to know what happened to that baby.””
I felt my heartbeat accelerate.
“What happened?””
Vanessa looked directly at me.
“Your mother didn't lose the pregnancy.””
Silence.
I stared at her.
“What?””
Vanessa folded her arms.
“The baby survived.””
My father spun around.
“Vanessa, shut up!””
But she continued.
“Catherine gave birth early. The baby was taken to another hospital.””
I couldn't breathe.
“Where is the baby now?””
Vanessa looked at my father.
He said nothing.
Then she delivered the words that shattered the room.
“Your little brother was adopted.””
I left the mansion with the letter in my handbag and a thousand questions in my head.
My mother had given birth.
My brother had survived.
And my father had allowed me to believe that the pregnancy had ended in tragedy.
I sat in Michael's office while he made calls to the hospitals listed in the partial records.
He eventually returned with a notepad.
“The original facility was a private maternity hospital that closed several years ago.””
“Can we find the records?””
“We're trying.””
“Who adopted him?””
“We don't know yet.””
I looked at the letter.
“Why would my mother agree to give him away?””
Michael sat opposite me.
“I don't know whether she agreed. The discharge documents are incomplete, and your father's explanation is unverified.””
I stared at him.
“Could someone have arranged the adoption without her consent?””
“That's something we need to investigate.””
My phone vibrated.
A message from an unknown number appeared.
If you want to meet your brother, stop asking your father questions.
I immediately showed Michael.
He read it.
Then he looked at me.
“Don't respond.””
Another message arrived.
He doesn't know what happened to the baby either.
I stared.
Then a final message appeared.
I do.
A photograph was attached.
It showed a young man standing outside a university building.
He looked approximately twenty-five years old.
Dark hair.
Brown eyes.
A familiar expression.
And around his neck was a small silver pendant.
My mother's pendant.
The one I remembered seeing in her jewelry box.
May you like
The message beneath the photograph contained only four words.
His name is Daniel Carter.
