Chapter 4 - The Uncle Nobody Told Us About
Owen moved in front of me.
“Who are you?”
The man stepped into the light.
He was in his late sixties.
Gray hair.
Expensive coat.
A familiar face.
I couldn't explain why.
But I knew him.
He looked at me.
Then Mia appeared behind him.
She had followed us.
“Lila?”
The man smiled.
“Hello, girls.”
Mia froze.
“Who are you?”
The man looked at us.
“Your uncle.”
My stomach dropped.
Richard.
The man Mom had warned us about.
He walked closer.
“I've wanted to meet you for years.”
“Why?”
“Because your mother made me disappear.”
I frowned.
“That isn't what she wrote.”
He laughed.
“Your mother always had a talent for controlling the story.”
Owen stepped forward.
“Leave.”
Richard looked at him.
“You're Owen.”
“How do you know me?”
“I know everything about this family.”
He turned to Mia.
“And I know why you've always hated your sister.”
Mia stared.
“You don't know anything about me.”
“I know more than you think.”
He pulled a photograph from his pocket.
It showed Mom standing outside a hospital.
Beside her was another woman.
“Who is she?” I asked.
Richard smiled.
“Your biological mother.”
Silence.
Mia screamed.
“No.”
My world tilted.
“That isn't possible.”
Richard looked at me.
“Your father wasn't your biological father either.”
Owen grabbed my arm.
“Don't listen to him.”
But Richard continued.
“You were adopted.”
I couldn't breathe.
Mia looked at me.
“Lila?”
I stared at the photograph.
“Why would Mom hide this?”
“Because she was afraid you'd find out.”
“Why?”
“Because your biological parents died.”
My knees weakened.
Richard caught me.
I pulled away.
“You're lying.”
“Maybe.”
He smiled.
“But there's only one way to know.”
He handed me a file.
“DNA records.”
Then he walked away.
Mia wanted to follow him.
I stopped her.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because he wants us to chase him.”
Owen nodded.
“We take this to a lawyer.”
We did.
The documents were real.
But the DNA report was incomplete.
There was no proof.
Only a name.
My biological mother.
Elena Hart.
The name meant nothing to me.
Until I searched the old newspaper archives.
Elena Hart had died in a house fire twenty-nine years ago.
The same week Mia and I were born.
But the strangest detail was this:
Elena had been pregnant.
With twins.
Mia stared at the screen.
“Twins?”
I looked at her.
“What if we're not sisters?”
She began crying.
“What?”
“What if we're not biological sisters?”
The room went silent.
The DNA test was ordered.
May you like
Three weeks later, the results arrived.
Mia and I were not biologically related.
