The photograph was impossible.
At least, that was what my mind kept telling me.
Michael had supposedly disappeared twenty years ago.
Yet the reflection showed him standing behind me.
Inside our apartment.
My father immediately checked every room.
Closets.
Bathroom.
Bedroom.
Balcony.
Nothing.
The police searched too.
There was no one.
The officer studied the photograph again.
“The image could have been taken through the window.”
“But the reflection,” Rebecca said.
“Could be someone outside.”
My father shook his head.
“Then why does it look like he's inside?”
Nobody had an answer.
My mother sat at the table, trembling.
I noticed something else.
The man in the reflection wore a silver watch.
My mother saw it too.
She whispered, “That's Michael's watch.”
My father looked at her.
“How can you be sure?”
“He wore it every day.”
Rebecca stared at the image.
“Then he was here.”
The officer asked my mother whether Michael had any known associates.
She listed several names.
Mercer.
Rivas.
Patricia.
And one more.
“Charles Bennett.”
I looked at her.
“Who?”
“My father's younger brother.”
I stared.
“You have two uncles?”
“One was Michael. The other was Charles.”
“Where is Charles?”
“Dead.”
Rebecca frowned.
“When?”
“Six years ago.”
The officer wrote it down.
“What did Charles do?”
“He managed the family's charitable foundation.”
My father suddenly understood.
“The foundation could have moved money.”
My mother nodded.
“That's what I thought.”
The attorney confirmed it.
Several transfers connected to the old trust had passed through the foundation.
One transfer was made only three months ago.
To a private company.
The company was registered under a name none of us recognized.
The officer traced it.
Then looked up.
“The company has one director.”
“Who?”
“Daniel Mercer.”
My father leaned back.
“So Mercer never disappeared.”
“He didn't,” the officer said.
“Then where is he?”
“We don't know.”
Rebecca looked at the records.
“There is another payment.”
“To whom?”
She pointed.
“Patricia.”
The payment had been made two weeks before Patricia began pressuring me.
My mother looked sick.
“She was being paid.”
My father shook his head.
“For what?”
The officer answered.
“Consulting.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Consulting about my baby?”
Nobody laughed.
The attorney examined the records.
“There are payments to a second person.”
“Who?”
The name was unfamiliar.
Until my mother read it.
She went pale.
“Michael.”
My father stared.
“That's impossible.”
“He's alive,” my mother said.
The payment was recent.
Very recent.
Three days ago.
My father stood.
“Then we find him.”
The officer stopped him.
“We do this properly.”
Before anyone could answer, my mother's phone rang.
Unknown number.
She answered.
“Hello?”
Nobody spoke.
Then a man's voice came through.
“You kept the letter.”
My mother froze.
I recognized the voice from the recording.
Michael.
My father reached for the phone.
Michael continued.
“You should have destroyed it.”
My mother whispered, “Why are you doing this?”
“Because you never understood what you were protecting.”
“I was protecting Elena.”
“No,” he said. “You were protecting yourself.”
My mother's eyes filled with tears.
“You took her baby.”
“I saved the family.”
“You destroyed her.”
Michael's voice became colder.
“She was weak.”
Rebecca stood.
“Let me speak to him.”
My mother handed her the phone.
Rebecca held it.
“You stole me.”
There was silence.
Then Michael said, “You were given a life.”
“I was given a lie.”
“You were raised by good people.”
“People who knew I had a mother.”
Michael sighed.
“You're emotional.”
Rebecca laughed bitterly.
“That's what Patricia always says.”
I felt something change in his voice.
“Patricia made mistakes.”
My father stepped forward.
“You used her.”
“I gave her purpose.”
“By taking my daughter's child?”
Michael was silent.
Then he said something that made my blood run cold.
“Your daughter is not the only one carrying Elena's blood.”
My father stiffened.
“What does that mean?”
“It means the child belongs to the family.”
“No,” my father said.
Michael laughed softly.
“You still think this is about custody.”
The call ended.
My mother looked at me.
I felt sick.
“What does he mean?”
The attorney spoke.
“He may be referring to the trust.”
Rebecca shook her head.
“No.”
She looked frightened.
“He knows something else.”
“What?”
“I don't know.”
My phone vibrated.
Another message.
The baby is not the reason they chose Valerie.
I stared at it.
Then another.
Valerie is the reason.
My father took the phone.
“What does that mean?”
I didn't know.
The officer suggested we move to a secure location.
We agreed.
As we gathered our things, my mother suddenly cried out.
She had collapsed beside the kitchen table.
My father caught her.
“Maria!”
She was conscious but pale.
The officer called emergency medical services.
I knelt beside her.
“Mom?”
She gripped my hand.
“I remembered.”
“What?”
“Why Michael chose you.”
My heart pounded.
“Tell me.”
She struggled to breathe.
“When you were born, your grandmother discovered something.”
“What?”
“She had your blood tested.”
My father stared at her.
“Why?”
My mother looked at me.
“Because she believed you were not your father's child.”
The room went silent.
I couldn't speak.
My father looked devastated.
“What are you saying?”
My mother closed her eyes.
“I don't know what she found.”
The ambulance siren sounded outside.
The officers moved quickly.
I stood frozen.
Rebecca took my hand.
“Don't assume the worst.”
But my father had already turned away.
The secret was no longer about Elena.
It was about me.
And for the first time, I wondered whether the reason Michael wanted my baby had nothing to do with inheritance at all.
Click here to continue reading: PART 12: My Mother Revealed the Test My Grandmother Had Hidden, and the Result Could Destroy the Family Story We Had All Believed
The Morning My Family Turned Against Me Was the Morning I Realized Someone Had Already Decided What Would Happen to My Baby
Part 11 of 20
