Rebecca sat at the kitchen table without removing her coat.
She looked older than I had imagined from the photographs, but there was something familiar in her face. Not enough to identify immediately. Enough to make me understand why the resemblance between Elena and me had unsettled me.
My mother couldn't stop looking at her.
Rebecca noticed.
“You knew me before I knew you.”
My mother lowered her eyes.
“Yes.”
Rebecca nodded.
“I figured.”
“How?”
“Because Elena kept writing about you.”
My mother looked up.
“What?”
Rebecca reached inside her bag and removed a small bundle of letters.
“They were given to me three months ago.”
My mother stared at them.
“Where did you get those?”
“From Patricia.”
Everyone became still.
Rebecca explained that Patricia had contacted her several months earlier.
She had told Rebecca that old family records might become public and that Rebecca needed to protect herself.
“At first,” Rebecca said, “I thought she was helping me.”
“What did she want?”
“She wanted me to sign something.”
My father frowned.
“What?”
“A statement saying I had no knowledge of any biological relatives and did not wish to pursue them.”
My mother whispered, “Why would she need that?”
“Because she was afraid I would find Elena.”
Rebecca looked at me.
“And then she became afraid of you.”
I felt a chill.
“Why?”
“Because of the baby.”
My father asked, “What did she say?”
Rebecca's expression hardened.
“She said a child born to you could reopen the entire case.”
“What case?”
“The adoption.”
She explained that some of the original adoption documents had never been properly destroyed. If they were discovered, Rebecca could challenge the circumstances under which she had been separated from Elena.
“But you're an adult,” I said.
“Yes.”
“So why would my baby matter?”
Rebecca looked at my mother.
“Because your baby is the first person in this family who could force everyone to tell the truth.”
I didn't understand.
My mother did.
“She means the child would inherit Elena's story.”
Rebecca nodded.
“Exactly.”
My father sat down.
“This still doesn't explain the guardianship petition.”
“It does if Patricia believes Valerie's child can be controlled.”
Rebecca opened her bag again.
This time she removed a folder.
“I found this in my father's study.”
Inside were photocopies of old documents.
One was a letter from my grandmother.
The wording was formal.
It stated that the Rivas family would provide Rebecca with a secure home and that no member of Elena's family would interfere.
Another document listed a financial transfer.
The final page was newer.
It was signed by Patricia.
Rebecca pointed to it.
“She renewed the agreement.”
My mother stared at the page.
“She couldn't.”
“She did.”
“When?”
“Last year.”
I looked at the date.
It was only months before my pregnancy.
Suddenly the timing made sense.
Patricia hadn't started planning because I became pregnant.
She had been preparing for a future problem.
She had expected something to happen.
I asked Rebecca.
“What did she know?”
Rebecca looked at me.
“She knew your family was going to inherit something.”
“What?”
“A property trust.”
My father shook his head.
“What property?”
Rebecca explained that Elena's parents had owned land that had eventually been placed into a family trust. Because Elena died before adulthood, her child was supposed to receive a portion of it.
“But the trust was never transferred to me.”
“Why?”
“Because the Rivas family argued that they had no proof I was Elena's daughter.”
I looked at the adoption papers.
“They had the proof.”
“Yes.”
“They hid it.”
“Yes.”
The room went silent.
My mother whispered, “Elena's parents were trying to protect the property.”
Rebecca looked at her.
“Your grandmother was.”
My mother flinched.
Rebecca continued.
“She believed keeping the property inside the family mattered more than Elena's wishes.”
My father shook his head.
“And Patricia continued it.”
“Yes.”
I asked the question that had been bothering me.
“What does my baby have to do with the trust?”
Rebecca took out another paper.
“The trust contains a succession clause.”
My father read it.
His expression changed.
“What?”
He handed it to the attorney we had called earlier.
The attorney read silently.
Then he looked at us.
“This is unusual.”
“What does it mean?”
“If Rebecca has no surviving biological children, the next eligible descendant is Valerie's child.”
My heart stopped.
My father looked at Rebecca.
“Is that why Patricia wants custody?”
Rebecca nodded.
“She wants control over the child's inheritance.”
My mother covered her mouth.
The attorney looked at the guardianship papers.
“If Patricia becomes guardian, she could potentially influence the management of those assets.”
“She would steal from my baby.”
The attorney shook his head.
“Not automatically. But she could control access and create years of legal complications.”
Rebecca leaned forward.
“She already tried.”
“What?”
“She told me she could make the trust disappear.”
My father stood.
“How?”
“She said if the family needed to, they could challenge my biological connection and dissolve the trust.”
The attorney shook his head.
“That would be difficult.”
Rebecca gave a bitter smile.
“Patricia doesn't need to win. She only needs to keep everyone fighting long enough.”
I understood.
Delay.
Confusion.
Fear.
Those had been her weapons.
Not one dramatic move.
A hundred small pressures until everyone stopped asking questions.
I looked at my mother.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
She cried silently.
“I was afraid.”
“Of Patricia?”
“Of everyone.”
Rebecca looked at her.
“You should have told me too.”
My mother nodded.
“I know.”
Rebecca reached across the table.
“I don't blame you.”
My mother looked surprised.
“I blame the people who decided a child could be traded like property.”
Nobody spoke for a moment.
Then Rebecca turned to me.
“You need to hear something else.”
I waited.
“Patricia contacted me yesterday.”
My father stiffened.
“What did she say?”
“She said if I came here, she would make sure I regretted it.”
“Did she threaten you?”
“Yes.”
“Did she say where she was?”
Rebecca nodded.
“She said she was going to the hospital.”
My stomach dropped.
“Why?”
Rebecca looked at me.
“To speak with the doctor handling your pregnancy.”
My father immediately called the police.
The attorney gathered the documents.
My mother stood beside me.
Rebecca remained calm.
“She may already have gone.”
I touched my stomach.
For the first time since discovering the truth, fear replaced anger.
Not because Patricia had documents.
Not because of the trust.
Because she was moving toward the one place where my baby was most vulnerable.
The police arrived within minutes.
They asked Rebecca to give a statement.
Then one officer checked the hospital.
A few minutes later his radio crackled.
He looked at my father.
“She's there.”
My heart pounded.
“What is she doing?”
The officer listened.
Then his expression changed.
“She has a copy of a guardianship petition.”
My father swore.
The officer continued listening.
“She is telling the hospital that Valerie is legally incapable of making decisions regarding the child.”
I felt the room spin.
Rebecca grabbed my hand.
“They can't let her do that.”
The attorney stood.
“They won't.”
But before we could leave, the officer received another message.
He looked at me.
“There's a problem.”
“What?”
“Patricia has someone inside the hospital who is willing to sign a statement supporting her.”
My mother whispered, “Who?”
The officer answered.
“Dr. Samuel Rivas.”
The same doctor whose name appeared on Elena's records.
The man who had once told Elena her baby was dead.
He was still alive.
And he was standing between Patricia and my unborn child.
Click here to continue reading: PART 8: The Doctor Who Had Signed Elena’s False Death Record Was Waiting at the Hospital, and He Had One More Document Prepared for My Baby
The Morning My Family Turned Against Me Was the Morning I Realized Someone Had Already Decided What Would Happen to My Baby
Part 7 of 20
