“I know you may feel betrayed. But I loved you in the only way I knew how. I feared claiming you when your real mother was always around and that if the truth came out, you’d feel torn between us.”
Tears slid down my face.
“I left the house to Elena because, legally, she’s your mother, and I believed she deserved security after everything she sacrificed. I don’t know if you’ll find this letter before Elena does, but I couldn’t go without trying to tell the truth. I hope one day you will understand.”
My heart pounded with a mix of anger and disbelief.
If Elena were my biological mother, then why had she stood at the lawyer’s office and accepted everything without a word? Why hadn’t she told me the truth herself?
I slipped the letter and the birth certificate back into the envelope and pushed myself to my feet, my legs unsteady.
Then I walked into the kitchen.
Elena glanced up from the sink. “Are you done?” she asked quietly.
I lifted the envelope. “We need to talk.”
She looked puzzled.
I held it higher. “I know the whole truth. Margaret confessed everything.”
Her face drained of color. “Claire…”
“Is it all true? You’re my real mother?”
She closed her eyes briefly. When she opened them, they shimmered with tears.
“Yes.”
“So all these years,” I said, my breathing quickening, “you were right there. And it never once crossed your mind to tell me?”
Her voice broke. “It wasn’t that simple.”
“But you could’ve tried!”
“Margaret wanted you more than anything. I was just a teenager, Claire. I was terrified and alone. The man who got me pregnant…” She swallowed hard. “He was 20 and didn’t want anything to do with you.”
“Who is he?”
She shook her head quickly. “He works next door. He’s the gardener at the Whitman estate.”
A memory flickered. A tall man with a constant scowl, trimming hedges when I rode my bike past the neighboring property. He used to look at me in a way that made my skin prickle.
“What’s his name?” I asked quietly.
“Manuel.”
I began pacing the kitchen. “The letter said he pressured you to abort.”
“He did. He told me I’d ruin my life and that he wasn’t ready. I even scheduled an appointment.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “But Margaret figured it out before I went. She noticed the morning sickness.”
Elena exhaled shakily before continuing.
“She told me about her long struggle to become a mother and made her offer. She promised I could stay close, as long as we kept the truth hidden. I agreed because I thought it was the best chance for both of us.”
Anger flared again. “Then why take the house and push me out?”
Her expression shifted from guilt to fear. “Because of Manuel.”
The name sent a chill through me. “What about him?”
“A few months ago,” she said, “he approached me while I was taking out the trash. He’d been watching us over the years. He saw how much we looked alike and asked if you were his child.”
“And you told him?”
“I lied at first. But he kept pressing. He remembered when I disappeared for a few days before Margaret suddenly ‘gave birth.’ He said he’d always wondered.” She pressed her fingers to her temples. “Eventually, I admitted it.”
My stomach clenched. “What did he do?”
“He smiled,” Elena said bitterly. “Then he said he knew there was money in Margaret’s house. He said if I didn’t make sure she left it to me, he’d expose everything. He threatened court, newspapers—whatever it took.”
