Chapter 8: My Mother's Secret
I drove home with the photograph sitting on the passenger seat.
My father's former business partner was named Robert Sinclair.
He and my father had built a construction company together when they were young. They had worked side by side for nearly twenty years before a bitter financial dispute destroyed their friendship.
I remembered the arguments.
My father shouting into the telephone.
My mother crying in the kitchen.
Then, one morning, Robert disappeared from our lives.
A year later, Dad told me Robert had died overseas.
I had believed him.
Now Adrian was showing me a photograph of Robert standing beside my mother outside a bank.
I arrived home just after noon.
Mom was in the kitchen preparing soup.
She looked up when I entered.
“You're back early.””
I placed the photograph on the table.
Her knife stopped moving.
“Who is that man?””
She looked at the picture.
Then she slowly put down the knife.
“Where did you get this?””
“Adrian.””
Mom closed her eyes.
I pulled out a chair.
“Tell me why you were meeting Robert Sinclair.””
She didn't sit.
Instead, she walked to the window and looked outside.
“Marcus, I was hoping you wouldn't find out this way.””
I felt my chest tighten.
“Find out what?””
She turned toward me.
“Your father didn't tell you everything about the company.””
I laughed in disbelief.
“Mom, Robert was supposed to be dead.””
“He isn't.””
“I can see that.””
She sat down.
“After your father died, Robert contacted me. He said there were documents your father had hidden before his death.””
“What documents?””
“Financial records. Property agreements. Things that belonged to the company.””
I leaned forward.
“Why didn't you tell me?””
“Because I didn't want you dragged into something that had already hurt your father.””
I stared at her.
“What does this have to do with Vanessa?””
Mom looked at the photograph again.
“Vanessa contacted Robert.””
The room went silent.
“When?””
“About two months ago.””
I felt my hands go cold.
“How did she know him?””
“I don't know. She said she had found some old business records while looking through your father's things.””
“Why would she be looking through Dad's things?””
“She told me she wanted to understand the family's history.””
I rubbed my forehead.
“And you met Robert without telling me?””
“Yes.””
“Why?””
“Because he told me Vanessa was asking questions about the company.””
I stared at her.
“What kind of questions?””
Mom hesitated.
“About a trust your father established before he died.””
I stood up.
“What trust?””
She opened a drawer and removed a thick blue folder.
“Your father left you something.””
I looked at the folder.
Inside were copies of legal documents, property records, and a letter written in my father's handwriting.
My name was on the envelope.
I opened it carefully.
Marcus, if you're reading this, then something has happened that I hoped would never happen. I created a trust to protect the family home and the company shares I left behind. Your mother is the trustee until you turn thirty-five. No spouse, creditor, or outside party can claim ownership without your independent consent.
I read the letter twice.
My father's signature was at the bottom.
I looked at Mom.
“How much is in the trust?””
She lowered her eyes.
“Your father's shares are worth considerably more than you think.””
“How much?””
“Approximately six million dollars, based on the latest valuation.””
I felt dizzy.
Six million.
My father had never lived extravagantly. He drove the same car for twelve years and repaired broken furniture rather than replacing it.
I had no idea he'd left behind that kind of wealth.
“Does Vanessa know?””
Mom nodded.
“She found a copy of the original trust document.””
“When?””
“Three months ago.””
I thought about the forty-eight thousand dollars.
The apartment.
The forged property transfer.
Everything began fitting together.
“She wanted access to the trust.””
“Yes.””
“Could she get it?””
“Not legally. But she could attempt to challenge it or pressure you into changing the arrangements.””
I stared at the documents.
Then I noticed a name.
The trust administrator was listed as Robert Sinclair.
“Robert is involved?””
Mom nodded.
“He helped your father establish it. After your father died, he remained responsible for certain financial matters.””
I sank into the chair.
“Why did Adrian say you were meeting him?””
“Because we were trying to protect the trust.””
I looked at her.
“From Vanessa?””
“From anyone who might try to claim it improperly.””
I felt ashamed.
I'd spent years thinking my mother was overly protective.
But she had been protecting something far more important than her own place in my life.
I picked up the letter again.
“Why didn't Dad tell me?””
Mom reached across the table.
“He wanted you to grow up without worrying about money. He wanted you to choose your own life.””
My eyes burned.
For a moment, I was five years old again, sitting on my father's shoulders at a county fair.
I remembered his laughter.
His hands.
The smell of engine oil on his work clothes.
I folded the letter carefully.
“Mom, I'm sorry.””
She squeezed my fingers.
“You don't have to apologize for asking questions.””
“No. I have to apologize for not asking them sooner.””
Before she could respond, my phone rang.
It was Chloe.
I answered immediately.
“What's wrong?””
Her voice was frantic.
“Marcus, you need to come to the hospital.””
“Why?””
“Vanessa is asking for Adrian.””
I stood up.
“What happened?””
“She says the baby is coming.””
I grabbed my keys.
“Has she gone into labor?””
“I don't know. But there's something else.””
“What?””
Chloe lowered her voice.
“Adrian is already there.””
I stopped moving.
“How?””
“He arrived twenty minutes ago. Vanessa asked the nurses to let him into the room.””
I felt something twist inside me.
“Why would she do that?””
“Marcus, I heard them talking.””
“What did they say?””
Chloe began crying.
“Vanessa told him that if the baby was his, they could finally stop pretending.””
I closed my eyes.
Then Chloe added one more thing.
“She also said that once the baby was born, she would have no reason to keep you around.””
I hung up.
Mom stood near the doorway.
“I'm coming with you.””
I shook my head.
“Not this time.””
“Marcus—”
“Mom, I need to handle this myself.””
She nodded.
Then she handed me the blue folder.
“Take this to a lawyer. Don't sign anything until everything has been reviewed.””
I tucked it under my arm.
As I reached the front door, my phone buzzed.
A message from an unknown number appeared.
It contained a photograph of a document.
At the top were the words:
*DECLARATION OF PATERNITY AND FINANCIAL RESPONSIBILITY.*
My name was already printed beneath the signature line.
And in the bottom corner was a handwritten instruction.
*Obtain Marcus's signature before delivery.*
I stared at the document.
Vanessa wasn't just trying to leave me.
May you like
She was trying to make me legally responsible for everything before I knew the truth.
And someone at the hospital was helping her.
