Chapter 4: The Mother Who Raised Me
"Ask your mother who really gave birth to you.""
The words remained in my ear long after the call ended.
I slowly lowered my phone.
Across the kitchen table, Eleanor Carter looked as though someone had pulled the ground out from beneath her.
"Mom," I said.
She didn't answer.
"Who gave birth to me?""
Her lips trembled.
"Marcus, don't listen to him.""
"That's not an answer.""
"He wants to hurt you. That's all.""
I placed my father's letter on the table.
"Did you give birth to me?""
Eleanor covered her mouth.
For the first time in my thirty-five years, I saw my mother look at me as though she didn't know who I was.
Then she began to cry.
"Yes," she whispered.
I felt a strange wave of relief.
But it lasted only a second.
"Then why would he say that?""
She looked toward the staircase.
"Because there are things your father and I never told you.""
I pulled out the chair opposite her.
"Start talking.""
Eleanor wiped her cheeks with a tissue.
"When your father and I married, I had already suffered two miscarriages. The doctors told me another pregnancy might be dangerous.""
I listened without moving.
"Your father wanted children desperately. He came from a large family. He believed a family wasn't complete without someone to carry on the name.""
"That doesn't explain the phone call.""
"No. It doesn't.""
She reached into her handbag and removed another photograph.
This one showed a young woman holding a newborn baby in a hospital bed.
The woman had dark hair, tired eyes, and a small smile.
The baby was wrapped in a white blanket.
I stared at the photograph.
"Who is she?""
"Margaret Russo.""
My father's former lover.
Anthony's mother.
I looked closer.
The photograph was dated March 14.
My birthday.
"Why was she holding me?""
Eleanor closed her eyes.
"Because she was there when you were born.""
I pushed the photograph away.
"You're telling me Margaret Russo was in the hospital when I was born?""
"Yes.""
"Why?""
Eleanor took a shaky breath.
"Because your father had asked her to come.""
I stood so quickly that the chair scraped against the floor.
"Was I her child?""
"No.""
"Then whose child was I?""
Eleanor looked directly at me.
"Yours. Mine and your father's.""
I stared at her.
"Then why was Margaret there?""
"She had been helping us.""
"Helping you with what?""
Before she could answer, footsteps sounded on the staircase.
Vanessa appeared in the doorway.
Her face was pale, and she had clearly been listening.
"Marcus," she said softly, "you need to stop.""
I turned toward her.
"Not now.""
"Your mother is trying to protect you.""
I laughed.
"From the truth?""
Vanessa walked toward the table.
"Some truths destroy more than they repair.""
I stared at her.
"That's a convenient philosophy for someone who has spent seven years lying to me.""
She flinched.
Eleanor stood.
"Vanessa, go upstairs.""
"No," Vanessa replied.
"He deserves to know what Anthony is doing.""
I looked between them.
"You both seem to know a great deal about Anthony. So let's stop pretending.""
I picked up the photograph.
"Why was Margaret holding me?""
Eleanor finally spoke.
"Because Margaret had lost her own baby three weeks before you were born.""
The kitchen became silent.
"Your father felt responsible for her. He had promised to support her, but she refused to accept money. She wanted something else.""
"What?""
"She wanted to be part of your life.""
I shook my head.
"That doesn't make sense.""
"She was there for your first birthday. She sent gifts. She visited occasionally. Your father told me she was an old friend.""
"And you allowed that?""
"I was young. I was frightened. I believed I owed her something.""
I looked at the photograph again.
"Why?""
Eleanor didn't answer.
Then Vanessa stepped forward.
"Because Margaret wasn't just your father's lover.""
I turned toward her.
"What are you talking about?""
Vanessa looked at Eleanor.
My mother whispered, "Don't.""
But Vanessa continued.
"Margaret was the woman who helped your parents arrange the adoption.""
I stared at her.
"Adoption?""
Eleanor's knees seemed to weaken.
She sat down again.
The silence stretched.
Finally, she nodded.
"I couldn't carry a pregnancy to term. After the second miscarriage, your father and I began looking into adoption.""
I felt my heartbeat in my throat.
"You adopted me?""
"Yes.""
"Why didn't you tell me?""
"Because you were our son. We loved you. Your father thought telling you would only create confusion.""
"Who were my biological parents?""
Eleanor looked down.
"We never knew the father's identity.""
I stared at her.
"And my mother?""
"She died shortly after giving birth.""
I felt sick.
"Who?""
Eleanor's voice broke.
"Margaret Russo.""
I looked at the photograph.
The woman holding the newborn.
The woman who had been my father's lover.
The woman who had lost her baby.
The woman whose name had appeared on the cake.
"You're telling me Margaret Russo was my biological mother?""
Eleanor nodded.
I took a step backward.
Then another.
"Does Anthony know?""
"Yes.""
"How?""
"Your father told him.""
I looked toward the ceiling.
Vanessa was crying silently.
I didn't care.
"Then Anthony is not my half-brother.""
Eleanor shook her head.
"No.""
I looked at her.
"He's my biological brother.""
"Yes.""
The word hit harder than anything else.
I sat down.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then I noticed the letter still lying on the table.
My father's handwriting.
The sentence about the false name.
I picked it up again.
"There's more.""
Eleanor immediately reached for it.
"Marcus, please.""
I pulled it away.
"Don't touch it.""
I unfolded the remaining page.
At the bottom, beneath my father's signature, was a handwritten instruction.
If Anthony returns, do not give him the company. He knows what happened to Margaret, but he does not know the full truth.
I read it twice.
"What happened to Margaret?""
Eleanor began shaking her head.
"I don't know.""
But her voice was too quick.
I looked at her.
"Mom.""
She lowered her eyes.
"I was told she died from complications after childbirth.""
"By whom?""
"Your father.""
"Did you see a death certificate?""
She didn't answer.
I stood.
"Did you ever visit her grave?""
Still nothing.
I looked at Vanessa.
"Did you know?""
She wiped her cheeks.
"Anthony told me Margaret was alive.""
My heart stopped.
"What?""
"He said she had disappeared after you were adopted. He said your father paid someone to help her leave the country.""
I turned back to Eleanor.
"Is that true?""
My mother looked as though she might faint.
Before she could answer, a car horn sounded outside.
Once.
Twice.
Nia hurried into the kitchen.
"Mr. Carter?""
"What?""
"There's someone at the front gate.""
"Who?""
She swallowed.
"He says he's Anthony Russo.""
I looked through the window.
A black Mercedes was parked outside.
A tall man stood beside it.
He wore a charcoal coat and held a small bouquet of white flowers.
He looked familiar.
Not because I had seen him before.
Because I had seen his face in my own mirror.
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And when he raised his head toward the house, I recognized the smile.
It was the same smile my father had worn in every photograph.
