Chapter 6
Denise pulled out a chair.
“Please sit down.”
Olivia remained standing.
“I've spent two years looking for my biological family. My adoptive mother kept some records, but my father is gone, and my mother died before she could tell me anything.”
She looked at Denise.
“You told me you were a friend of Patricia's. You said you didn't know anything about my father.”
Denise's mouth trembled.
“I lied.”
Olivia slowly sat down.
I watched her hands tighten around the strap of her purse.
“Why?”
“Because I was afraid of hurting people.”
Olivia laughed without humor.
“You don't protect people by lying to them.”
The words landed hard.
Denise looked at me.
I looked away.
This was not my moment to rescue her.
She had to answer for herself.
“My name is Denise Carter,” she began. “Patricia was my closest friend. We were both pregnant at the same time. She had a difficult family situation, and I promised to help her protect you.”
Olivia's face went pale.
“You knew my mother?”
“Yes.”
“You knew where I was?”
“For a long time, yes.”
Olivia stared at her.
“Did you know who my father was?”
Denise swallowed.
“I suspected it was Raymond.”
Olivia opened her purse and removed a photograph.
It was the same man from our old picture.
“Then why did nobody tell me?”
Denise began crying.
“Because I was selfish. I wanted to keep my marriage and protect my family. I convinced myself that silence was kinder.”
Olivia looked at the photograph.
“Was he my father?”
“We don't know for certain.”
Olivia shook her head.
“I have spent my whole life wondering why I have his face.”
I leaned forward.
“We can help you find the truth, if that's what you want.”
Olivia turned toward me.
“Who are you?”
“Marcus. Denise's husband.”
She looked at the wedding ring I no longer wore.
“Were you married when all this happened?”
“Not when the children were conceived. But Denise knew there was a possibility Angela was Raymond's daughter when we got married.”
Olivia's eyes moved toward Denise.
“Angela?”
Our oldest daughter spoke softly.
“I'm Angela.”
Olivia studied her face.
“I've seen you before.”
Angela looked confused.
“Where?”
“Online. Your wedding photographs came up when I searched for Denise. I thought it was a coincidence.”
The revelation made Angela look sick.
Denise had been aware of Olivia's existence and had still allowed her to stumble across the family online without offering an explanation.
Olivia turned back to Denise.
“I don't want your money. I don't want you to pretend you were my mother. I want the truth.”
Denise nodded.
“You deserve that.”
“And I want to know whether Raymond was my father.”
“We can arrange a proper DNA test.”
Olivia looked at me.
“Would you be willing to help?”
I hesitated only a moment.
“Yes.”
Denise reached for Olivia's hand.
Olivia pulled hers away.
“Please don't touch me yet.”
Denise withdrew immediately.
“I understand.”
For the next hour, we discussed what we knew.
Olivia explained that her adoptive parents had raised her with love.
She had never doubted that she was wanted.
But when her adoptive mother died, Olivia found a box containing old hospital records, letters from Patricia, and a note suggesting that Raymond might have been her biological father.
She had searched for years.
The telephone call to Denise had been her first attempt to contact someone who knew her mother personally.
She had hoped to learn about Patricia.
Instead, she had found another locked door.
“I don't hate my adoptive family,” Olivia said. “They were my family. But I want to know where I came from.”
I understood.
More than I wished I did.
I had spent two days wondering whether my own children would still consider me their father after learning that we might not share DNA.
Olivia had spent decades wondering who her biological parents were.
Different circumstances.
The same ache.
Brandon and Brianna arrived halfway through the conversation.
Olivia introduced herself.
Brianna immediately hugged her, then apologized for doing it without asking.
Olivia laughed softly.
“It's okay. I needed that.”
Brandon sat down beside Michael.
For the first time since the dinner, the four siblings looked at one another without anger.
They looked frightened.
But they also looked curious.
Maybe there was still a family here.
Maybe the truth would hurt us without destroying us.
Before we left, Olivia agreed to a new round of DNA testing.
She also asked Denise for copies of every letter, photograph, and record she had kept.
Denise promised to provide everything.
Outside the restaurant, Olivia stopped me.
“Mr. Carter?”
“Marcus, please.”
She smiled faintly.
“Marcus. I know this has been hard for you too.”
I stared at her.
“You've done nothing wrong.”
“I know. But I can see how much you're hurting.”
I looked down at my bare ring finger.
“I spent thirty years believing I knew my own life.”
Olivia nodded.
“I spent thirty years wondering about mine.”
We stood in silence for a moment.
Then she said, “Whatever the results show, I hope you don't lose your children.”
I looked toward the parking lot.
Angela was standing beside my car, waiting for me.
May you like
“I won't,” I said.
And for the first time since opening that first envelope, I believed it.
