Chapter 3: The Secret My Father Buried
I stared at the photograph until the edges began to blur.
My mother, Eleanor Hayes, was sitting across from my father at a restaurant.
She looked older than I remembered her, but unmistakably alive.
Her hair was shorter. Her face was thinner.
Yet there was no mistaking her.
I turned the photograph over again.
*YOUR FATHER HAS BEEN LYING ABOUT HER DEATH.*
"Where did you get this?""
Nia backed away.
"Olivia gave it to me.""
"When?""
"This afternoon.""
"Why didn't you tell me?""
"She said I had to wait until you believed your father was dangerous.""
I stared at her.
"Did you know my mother was alive?""
"No!""
"Did Olivia tell you where this picture was taken?""
"She said it was recent.""
I looked at the date printed in the corner.
October 18.
Three weeks earlier.
My mother had supposedly died six years ago after complications from surgery.
I remembered the funeral.
I remembered the closed casket.
I remembered Dad standing beside me, barely able to speak.
I remembered Olivia crying into his shoulder.
And now I was holding a photograph suggesting the entire thing had been a lie.
I called Daniel again.
He answered immediately.
"Marcus, I was about to call you.""
"Did you know my mother was alive?""
A long silence followed.
Then Daniel said, "Where did you get that information?""
I closed my eyes.
"Just answer me.""
"Your father needs to explain this himself.""
"Daniel!""
"I promised him I wouldn't discuss it without his permission.""
"Then tell me where he is.""
"He's at the old lake house.""
I looked toward the staircase.
"Why?""
"Because he asked me to meet him there tomorrow morning.""
"About what?""
Daniel hesitated.
"About Olivia.""
I ended the call.
Nia was still standing beside the bed.
"Marcus, I think you should listen to Olivia.""
I turned slowly.
"Why?""
"Because your father has been keeping secrets.""
"And Olivia hasn't?""
Nia looked down.
I stepped closer.
"Tell me everything she said about my mother.""
"She said your father had been controlling her for years. She said he made everyone believe she died because she wanted to leave him.""
"Leave him for whom?""
Nia shook her head.
"She didn't say.""
"Did she show you any proof?""
"Only the photograph.""
I looked at the envelope again.
There was something else inside.
A small piece of paper with an address written in blue ink.
I recognized it.
It was the address of a private storage facility on the outskirts of town.
"What is this?""
Nia swallowed.
"Olivia told me to give it to you if you found out about the pregnancy.""
"Why?""
"She said your father kept something there.""
"What?""
"I don't know.""
I took the paper.
"You're coming with me.""
"Marcus, I don't think—"
"You're coming.""
Twenty minutes later, we were driving through the city in silence.
Nia sat beside me, her hands folded tightly in her lap.
The fake pregnancy belly was in the back seat, wrapped in a blanket.
I couldn't stop looking at it in the rearview mirror.
For months, I had imagined holding my child.
Now I couldn't even look at my wife without remembering the lie.
When we reached the storage facility, a security guard checked the address and directed us toward unit 214.
The metal door was already unlocked.
Inside stood a single wooden cabinet, several cardboard boxes, and an old leather suitcase.
I opened the suitcase.
There were photographs.
Dozens of them.
My mother at a beach.
My mother sitting in a café.
My mother standing beside a small house.
All taken within the last two years.
Beneath the photographs was a stack of letters.
The first one was addressed to me.
My hands trembled as I opened it.
My dearest Marcus,
If you are reading this, then your father has finally decided to tell you the truth.
I never stopped loving you.
I never wanted you to believe I was dead.
But there are things about that night that you were too young to understand.
I stopped reading.
"That night?""
Nia moved closer.
"What does it say?""
I continued.
Your father did not bury me. He protected me.
And the person who wanted me gone was not your father.
A noise came from behind us.
The storage unit door began rolling downward.
I spun around.
"Hey!""
A man stood outside.
He was wearing a dark jacket and holding a metal flashlight.
He pressed a button.
The door slammed shut.
Nia screamed.
I rushed toward it, but the man was already walking away.
I pounded against the metal.
"OPEN THE DOOR!""
No response.
My phone had no signal.
I looked around for another exit.
Then Nia spotted a small ventilation window near the ceiling.
"Marcus, over there!""
I dragged a plastic crate beneath it.
Before I could climb, something buzzed inside the suitcase.
A phone.
An old black phone I hadn't noticed beneath the letters.
I picked it up.
The screen lit.
One unread message.
*FROM: MOM*
My heart stopped.
I opened it.
*Marcus, if you found the letters, listen carefully. Do not trust Olivia. She knows I am alive.
She knows what happened six years ago. And she knows that your father has the original recording.*
A second message arrived.
He is not the one who caused the accident.
I stared at the screen.
"What accident?"" I whispered.
Then the phone rang.
The caller ID displayed one word.
*MOM.*
I answered.
"Hello?""
For several seconds, all I heard was breathing.
Then a woman's voice whispered:
"Marcus?""
My knees nearly gave way.
"Mom?""
A sob escaped her.
"Oh, my baby.""
I pressed the phone against my ear.
"Where are you? Why did everyone tell me you were dead?""
"I don't have much time.""
"Mom, what happened six years ago?""
She began crying.
"Your father tried to save me. But Olivia...""
The line crackled.
"Mom?""
"Marcus, your sister was driving the car that night.""
I stopped breathing.
"What?""
"She was drunk. She hit someone. Your father helped her cover it up because he thought she would go to prison.""
My mind struggled to understand.
"Who did she hit?""
My mother whispered the answer.
And suddenly, every photograph, every lie, every secret took on a different meaning.
"She hit me, Marcus.""
The call disconnected.
I stood frozen.
Then Nia grabbed my arm.
"Marcus.""
I turned.
She was staring at the suitcase.
Beneath the photographs was a second envelope.
This one had my name written in my father's handwriting.
I opened it.
Inside was a single sheet of paper.
At the top were the words:
*CONFIDENTIAL DNA TEST RESULTS.*
I read the first line.
Then the second.
My hands began shaking.
The test had been conducted six months earlier.
The subject listed as the biological father was not Richard Hayes.
It was not even me.
The biological father of the child Nia had claimed to be carrying was listed as:
*OLIVIA HAYES.*
I looked up at my wife.
Nia's face crumpled.
"Marcus," she whispered, "there's something else you need to know.""
She reached into her handbag and pulled out a second photograph.
It showed Olivia standing outside a hospital.
Beside her was a newborn baby.
On the back, in handwriting I recognized as my sister's, were the words:
*THE HEIR TO HAYES CONSTRUCTION.*
Nia looked directly into my eyes.
"Olivia didn't hire me just to fake a pregnancy.""
She swallowed.
"She hired me to make you believe the baby was yours.""
And then, from somewhere outside the storage unit, I heard my father's voice.
"Marcus! Don't let her finish!""
A key turned in the lock.
My father stepped inside, holding a thick folder.
He looked at Nia.
Then at the DNA results in my hand.
"Son," he said quietly, "the baby Olivia is hiding isn't hers.""
May you like
He placed the folder on the floor.
"It's yours.""
