Chapter 8 - The Secret We Almost Buried Again
Three years passed.
The case was over.
Henry was imprisoned.
The Bellante empire was gone.
Our lives were peaceful.
Then one afternoon, I received another packet.
I recognized the handwriting.
Vincent.
I opened it.
Inside was a photograph.
My father.
My mother.
And a baby.
Me.
On the back:
THE STORY ISN'T FINISHED.
I called Vincent.
“I didn't send that.”
My blood went cold.
“Then who did?”
He arrived within minutes.
The photograph showed another detail.
A hospital bracelet.
My father's.
And a date.
The date of my birth.
Vincent looked at it.
“Your father knew something about your birth.”
“What?”
“We need to find the original records.”
We returned to the courthouse.
The records had been sealed.
A judge authorized access.
Inside was a second birth certificate.
Different hospital.
Different doctor.
My mother had not given birth in New Jersey.
She had given birth in Connecticut.
Why?
The answer was worse.
The doctor was connected to Henry.
And my father's signature appeared on an adoption document.
I stared.
“I was adopted?”
Vincent looked stunned.
“No.”
Another document.
Biological mother:
Eleanor Hollis.
Biological father:
Unknown.
My father's name was listed only as guardian.
I looked at Vincent.
“My father wasn't my biological father.”
He nodded.
“Maybe.”
We found the hospital.
The doctor was dead.
But a nurse remained.
She remembered.
“There was another baby.”
My heart stopped.
“A twin?”
“Yes.”
“Where is she?”
The nurse shook her head.
“We don't know.”
Vincent looked at me.
Another sister.
Another secret.
We searched.
Her name was Emily.
She had been adopted.
We found her living in Ohio.
She was twenty-nine.
She looked like me.
I cried when I saw her.
So did she.
We embraced.
For the first time, I understood why my father had hidden everything.
He had tried to save both daughters from Henry.
Emily had been protected.
I had been raised by my parents.
Different lives.
Same blood.
May you like
The family grew.
And the old secrets finally became stories instead of weapons.
