The officer took the documents into evidence, but there was one thing he allowed us to photograph before we left.
The page marked SECOND ARRANGEMENT.
I kept staring at it.
The handwriting belonged to my grandmother.
The signature belonged to Patricia.
And the date was six months before I had even told my family I was pregnant.
That detail bothered me more than anything else.
I pointed to the date.
“This was written before my pregnancy.”
My father looked at the page.
“You're right.”
My mother closed her eyes.
“Then it wasn't about you.”
I looked at her.
“What wasn't?”
“The second arrangement.”
Her voice had become very quiet.
“It may have started with Rebecca.”
I thought about it.
The Rivas family had taken Elena's daughter decades earlier. They had hidden her identity. They had built an entire family history around a lie.
But why would Patricia still care?
Unless the arrangement had never truly ended.
We returned to the apartment.
My father called an attorney who specialized in family law. The attorney reviewed the documents and explained that any attempt to obtain custody of my child without my consent would require legal grounds, but that did not mean Patricia had no way to pressure us.
“Has anyone filed anything already?” my father asked.
The attorney checked.
“Not under Valerie's name.”
I felt relief.
Then he added, “But there is something else.”
“What?”
“A guardianship petition was prepared but never submitted.”
My father stared at him.
“By whom?”
The attorney gave us the name.
Patricia Bennett.
My aunt.
I felt my hands go cold.
“What did it say?”
“That Valerie is a minor, that the pregnancy places her education and welfare at risk, and that a temporary guardian should oversee the child after birth.”
My mother shook her head.
“She was planning to take my grandchild.”
The attorney looked at me.
“Did you sign anything?”
“No.”
“Your parents?”
“No.”
“Then the petition has no authority by itself.”
I should have felt safer.
Instead, I thought about the language.
Valerie is a minor.
Pregnancy places her education and welfare at risk.
Someone had been building a case against me.
Not because I had done something wrong.
Because they wanted other people to believe I couldn't be trusted with my own child.
The attorney asked for every document.
He also advised us to preserve every message, recording, photograph, and piece of correspondence.
My father nodded.
“We will.”
After the call ended, Matthew texted me.
I need to tell you something in person.
I stared at the message.
My father noticed.
“No.”
“Dad—”
“You're not meeting him alone.”
“I know.”
My mother looked at me.
“You can ask him to come here.”
Matthew arrived an hour later.
He looked exhausted.
He sat across from me and kept his hands clasped between his knees.
“I should have told you earlier.”
“Yes.”
He nodded.
“My mother has been talking to Patricia for months.”
“About me?”
“About the baby.”
“What exactly did they want?”
He hesitated.
“She said Rebecca was the reason.”
I frowned.
“What does Rebecca have to do with my baby?”
Matthew looked at my father.
“Can I explain?”
My father nodded.
“My mother found out about Rebecca's real mother a long time ago. She knew Elena had been searching for her daughter before she died.”
I said nothing.
Matthew continued.
“She also knew Patricia was afraid Rebecca might eventually discover the truth.”
“Why?”
“Because Rebecca's inheritance was tied to the adoption.”
My father frowned.
“What inheritance?”
Matthew explained that Rebecca had inherited property and money from the Rivas family. The adoption records had been sealed, but certain documents could have challenged the family's claim to control some of that property.
I stared at him.
“So they hid Rebecca's identity for money.”
“Partly.”
“What's the other part?”
Matthew looked at me.
“Your grandmother promised the Rivas family something.”
“What?”
“That the child would never know where she came from.”
My mother whispered, “She promised Elena's silence.”
Matthew nodded.
“And Patricia inherited that promise.”
The room went quiet.
I understood something then.
Patricia wasn't simply protecting an old secret.
She believed she had a responsibility to preserve it.
But there was still a missing piece.
“Why me?”
Matthew looked down.
“I don't know.”
My father asked, “Did your mother ever explain why she became involved in Valerie's pregnancy?”
“No.”
“Think.”
Matthew closed his eyes.
Then he looked up.
“She said Valerie was connected to Rebecca.”
“How?”
“I don't know.”
I remembered the photograph of Elena.
The resemblance.
My mother's silence.
The old family records.
Then a possibility struck me.
“Is Rebecca related to me?”
My mother went still.
Matthew's eyes widened.
My father looked toward her.
“Maria?”
My mother slowly nodded.
“Rebecca was your cousin.”
I felt dizzy.
“So Elena was my cousin.”
“Yes.”
“And Rebecca is my cousin.”
“Yes.”
I touched my stomach.
“And my baby?”
My mother started crying.
“Your baby is part of the same family line.”
I didn't understand.
“That's why they care?”
My father shook his head.
“Family history alone isn't enough.”
Matthew suddenly spoke.
“There was another thing.”
We turned toward him.
“My mother said Rebecca wasn't supposed to have children.”
I frowned.
“Why?”
“She had a medical issue.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
Matthew looked uncomfortable.
“She said if Rebecca ever had a daughter, certain family assets would pass to her.”
My father stared at him.
“Are you saying this is about inheritance?”
“I think so.”
My mother shook her head.
“That can't be the whole reason.”
“Why?”
“Because Patricia had no right to control that inheritance.”
Matthew looked at her.
“Maybe she thought she did.”
I remembered the phrase in the message.
Your baby is in danger because she is a girl.
I said it aloud.
Matthew's expression changed.
“That's what my mother said.”
My father leaned forward.
“What exactly did she say?”
Matthew swallowed.
“She said the family could not afford another female heir outside their control.”
The words settled over us.
My father stood.
“That's enough.”
He picked up his phone.
“I'm calling the attorney.”
But before he could dial, someone knocked on the apartment door.
Three slow knocks.
Nobody moved.
My father signaled for us to stay back.
He approached the door.
“Who is it?”
A woman's voice answered.
“Rebecca.”
My heart stopped.
My father looked at me.
Then at my mother.
She was crying again.
The woman outside spoke through the door.
“I know who Elena was.”
I stepped closer.
Rebecca continued.
“And I know what Patricia plans to do to Valerie.”
My father unlocked the door.
Rebecca stood in the hallway.
She looked at me for several seconds.
Then she touched the old photograph in my hand.
“That's my mother.”
Click here to continue reading: PART 7: Rebecca Finally Met the Family She Had Been Separated From, but Her Story Revealed a Secret Patricia Had Kept Hidden for Decades
The Morning My Family Turned Against Me Was the Morning I Realized Someone Had Already Decided What Would Happen to My Baby
Part 6 of 20
