Chapter 6
I went straight to Dr. Whitmore's office.
I didn't call ahead.
I didn't ask whether she was available.
I walked through the reception area with the court document in my hand and demanded to see her.
When she entered the conference room, one look at my face told her something was wrong.
I placed the petition on the table.
“Why didn't you appear at my mother's hearing?”
She stared at the document.
For a moment, she looked much older than she had at the ceremony.
Then she sat down.
“I was supposed to testify that Danielle and Marcus had never been married, that Marcus had acknowledged you, and that Richard was pressuring the family to keep you away from your father.”
“Then why weren't you there?”
“Because someone told me Danielle had withdrawn the petition.”
“She didn't.”
“I know that now.”
I folded my arms.
“You knew my mother was fighting for me, and you didn't show up.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
She took a long breath.
“Richard sent me a letter the day before the hearing. He claimed Danielle had signed a settlement agreement and wanted the case closed. He said my testimony would only reopen an old wound.”
“You believed him?”
“I wanted to believe him. I was exhausted, frightened, and ashamed of how I had treated Danielle. I told myself I had no right to interfere.”
I looked away.
Every adult in my life had apparently found a reason not to act when my mother needed help.
“I can't forgive you just because you're sorry.”
“I understand.”
“And I don't want you making decisions about my life anymore.”
She nodded.
“You're right. The evidence belongs to you as much as it belongs to me. I will not ask you to trust me before I've earned it.”
Her honesty disarmed me, but it didn't erase my anger.
Angela arrived shortly afterward.
She had reviewed the court records and found something troubling.
The hearing had been postponed, but a notice of withdrawal had later been filed in Danielle's name.
The signature appeared authentic at first glance.
However, the filing date was two days after my mother had left town.
The document had been submitted electronically by a law office representing Richard Cole.
Angela suspected the signature had been copied from an earlier filing.
“If we can establish that the withdrawal was forged, it could change the entire history of the case,” she said.
I thought of the messages telling me to come alone.
“Someone is trying to scare me away from finding the truth.”
“That's possible,” Angela replied. “But we won't assume who is responsible until we have evidence.”
She arranged for a handwriting specialist to examine the documents.
Meanwhile, Dr. Whitmore contacted Marcus.
He agreed to meet me.
I spent two hours deciding what to wear.
Not because I wanted to impress him, but because I didn't know how to dress for meeting a father who had been absent from every important moment of my life.
In the end, I chose jeans, a white blouse, and my mother's pale-blue dress folded carefully inside a garment bag.
I needed him to see what I had discovered.
We met at a quiet café near a public park.
Marcus was waiting by the window.
He had silver at his temples, tired eyes, and a face that resembled mine around the mouth.
When he saw me, he stood so quickly that his chair scraped backward.
“Maya?”
I nodded.
He took a step toward me, then stopped.
“I don't know whether I should hug you.”
“You shouldn't.”
He lowered his hands.
“Okay.”
I sat opposite him.
For a while, neither of us spoke.
Then he looked at the garment bag beside me.
“Is that your mother's dress?”
I felt my throat tighten.
“You remember it?”
“I helped her choose the fabric.”
His eyes filled with tears.
“She told me she wanted you to wear something she made herself when you accomplished something important.”
I looked down.
“She wanted you there, too.”
Marcus closed his eyes.
“I know.”
“No, you don't. You weren't there when I learned to ride a bike. You weren't there when I got sick, or when Mom died, or when I had to decide whether I could afford college.”
He didn't interrupt.
“I used to tell people my father was dead because that hurt less than admitting I didn't know where he was.”
He bowed his head.
“I am sorry.”
“Why didn't you find me?”
“I tried. Your grandmother told me Danielle had moved, and every address I had became useless. I hired someone to look for her, but Richard's people interfered.”
“Did you give up?”
Marcus looked at me.
“No. But I should have done more.”
His answer was honest enough to hurt.
I unzipped the garment bag and placed the dress on the table between us.
“This dress is why everything started again.”
He touched the edge of the fabric.
“Danielle called it Blue Promise.”
“She told me it was something she made for me.”
“She did make it for you. But the original pattern was part of the collection she designed with Evelyn.”
He swallowed.
“Richard wanted that collection because it was worth millions. Danielle refused to surrender her ownership.”
“Why did the court case disappear?”
Marcus looked stricken.
“I didn't know the withdrawal had been filed. I was told Danielle had changed her mind and didn't want me near you.”
“Who told you?”
“My brother.”
“Richard.”
He nodded.
I pulled out the altered bank record.
“What about this?”
Marcus studied it.
“I never accepted money from Richard. He transferred funds into an account I controlled without my permission, then tried to use the transaction to make it look like I had betrayed Danielle.”
“Why didn't you expose him?”
“I tried. I was removed from the family company and threatened with lawsuits. Then I received a letter saying Danielle wanted no contact with me.”
I stared at him.
“Did you believe her?”
“No.”
His voice broke.
“But I was afraid that forcing my way into her life would put both of you in danger. I convinced myself staying away was the safest thing I could do.”
I wanted to understand.
I also wanted to scream.
“You let my mother raise me alone because you were afraid.”
“Yes.”
He wiped his eyes.
“I cannot undo that. I cannot ask you to forgive me. But if you allow it, I want to help you find the truth.”
I looked at his hands.
They were trembling.
For the first time, I saw not a missing father who had abandoned me, but a flawed man who had made terrible choices and was finally admitting them.
“I don't know if I can trust you,” I said.
“You shouldn't have to decide today.”
He reached into his jacket and removed a small envelope.
“This is the last thing your mother sent me.”
Inside was a photograph of me as a newborn, wrapped in a blue blanket.
On the back, my mother had written:
One day, I hope Maya understands that love can survive mistakes, but it cannot grow without truth.
I held the photograph against my chest.
Then Marcus said something that made me look up.
“Richard called me this morning.”
“What did he say?”
“He knows you've found the records.”
Marcus's face tightened.
“He told me that if I care about you, I will convince you to stop.”
I stared at him.
“And what did you tell him?”
Marcus leaned forward.
“I told him he should have thought about the consequences before he destroyed your mother's life.”
For the first time, I saw something fierce in my father's expression.
Not anger alone.
Resolve.
Then his phone rang.
He looked at the screen and went pale.
It was Richard.
Marcus answered on speaker.
Richard's voice filled the café.
“You have until tomorrow morning to surrender every document you have.”
Marcus looked at me.
Then he replied calmly.
“No.”
There was a brief silence.
Richard laughed.
“Then your daughter will learn what happened to Danielle after the last person tried to expose me.”
The call ended.
May you like
I felt the blood drain from my face.
Because Richard had just admitted that he knew something about my mother's final days that none of us had ever discovered.
