Chapter 5
I returned to my parents' house two days later.
Not because I'd forgiven them.
Because I wanted answers in person, without another phone call ending in tears and excuses.
Marcus opened the door.
He looked exhausted.
His usual confidence was gone, replaced by an uncertainty I'd never seen in him before.
"Maya."
I walked past him.
My mother sat on the couch with Noah beside her. Grandpa Arthur stood near the fireplace.
Nobody had turned on the television.
They had been waiting.
I placed David's letter on the coffee table.
"I know who my biological father was."
My mother's face crumpled.
Marcus lowered his head.
Arthur stared at the letter as though it were something dangerous.
"I also know David wanted to raise me."
My mother began crying.
"I loved him."
"Then tell me why you never told me."
She twisted her hands together.
"After David died, I couldn't bear the thought of losing you, too. Marcus offered to help me. He loved you, and he promised you'd have a stable home."
Marcus spoke quietly.
"I meant that promise."
I looked at him.
"Then why did you treat me like an obligation?"
He flinched.
"I didn't realize you felt that way."
"Really? You missed my graduation yesterday. You missed my scholarship interview last spring. You missed my award ceremony because Noah had a soccer game."
He opened his mouth.
I continued.
"You were there for him. You were always there for him. And whenever I asked for the same attention, you reminded me that I was older and should understand."
My father sat down.
"I thought you were independent."
"I became independent because I couldn't rely on you."
The room fell silent.
Noah climbed down from the couch and approached me.
"Are you leaving forever?"
I knelt in front of him.
"No, baby. None of this is your fault."
He wrapped his arms around my neck.
I hugged him tightly.
He was six years old. He hadn't asked for any of this, and I refused to make him feel responsible for decisions adults had made.
When he returned to my mother, I stood and faced Marcus.
"I need to ask you something. When you adopted me, did you actually want me?"
His eyes filled with tears.
"Yes."
"Then why did you never tell me the truth?"
"Because I was afraid."
"Of what?"
He looked toward Arthur.
My grandfather's jaw tightened.
Finally, Marcus spoke.
"I was afraid that if you knew about David, you'd look at me and see a man who had taken your father's place."
I shook my head.
"I would have seen a man who chose to raise me. That's not something you needed to be ashamed of."
"I know that now."
"No. You know it now because I found the papers."
He looked down.
I wanted to hate him.
It would have been easier if he had never loved me at all.
But I remembered him teaching me to swim, holding me after nightmares, and staying awake beside my bed when I had the flu.
Those memories were real.
So was the pain.
Both truths had to exist.
My grandfather cleared his throat.
"This family has survived difficult times before. We can work through this."
I turned toward him.
"You're the reason the truth stayed buried."
"I was protecting you."
"No. You were protecting the family from embarrassment."
His expression hardened.
"You don't understand the consequences of reopening old disputes."
"Then explain them."
He looked at Marcus.
Marcus didn't help him.
For the first time, my grandfather stood without the support of the people he had expected to obey him.
"The business was vulnerable after David died," Arthur admitted. "I was afraid an investigation would destroy everything we'd built."
"So you asked people to stay quiet?"
"I asked them to be careful."
"Did you tell my mother to hide my parentage?"
He hesitated.
That hesitation answered more than his words could.
My mother began sobbing harder.
"I should have told you," she whispered. "I should have told you when you were little. I should have told you when you started asking about David."
I looked at her.
"Yes."
She covered her face.
"I thought the truth would make you hate Marcus."
"It didn't. Your lies made me question him."
Marcus rubbed his eyes.
"I should have told you, too. I let fear make my decisions for too long."
I picked up David's letter.
"I'm not deciding today whether I can forgive any of you."
Arthur straightened.
"Then what do you want?"
"Honesty. All of it. The adoption records, the trust, David's dispute with the company, and anything else you decided I wasn't allowed to know."
My grandfather looked furious.
"You cannot simply demand private business records."
"I can ask questions. If the records show wrongdoing, I'll let the proper people investigate."
I turned toward the door.
Marcus followed me.
"Maya, wait."
I stopped.
"I love you."
My eyes filled with tears.
"I wish you'd shown me that when I needed you most."
I left before he could answer.
Outside, I sat in my car and cried.
I was grieving David, the father I'd never known.
I was grieving the childhood I had spent trying to earn affection.
And I was grieving the version of Marcus I had believed could never hurt me.
But beneath all that grief, something new was growing.
For the first time, I understood that I could love people without surrendering my right to protect myself.
I started the engine.
My phone rang.
Daniel Brooks.
"Maya, I've received additional information from the trust administrator," he said. "Your grandfather has contacted our office about changing the conditions under which you receive certain documents."
My hands tightened around the steering wheel.
"Can he do that?"
"Not unilaterally. Your father's written instructions remain controlling."
I let out a breath.
"Then what happens now?"
"Now, we make sure every document is accounted for."
I looked at the house through my windshield.
May you like
For eighteen years, my family had expected me to accept their version of the truth.
That was over.
