The next forty-eight hours felt endless.
We didn’t tell anyone.
Not Nathan’s parents.
Not my sister.
Not even our closest friends.
We simply waited.
The DNA test was ordered through the hospital’s genetics department.
While we waited, Nathan started searching through every old document connected to Emily’s disappearance.
He found something buried inside an old family file.
A hospital record.
Emily had given birth twenty-two years earlier.
A baby girl.
But the record said the child had died shortly after birth.
Nathan stared at the page.
“That isn’t true.”
“How do you know?”
“Because the hospital listed the baby’s name.”
He pointed to it.
The name was Lily Carter.
Our surname.
My hands went numb.
“Carter?”
Nathan nodded.
“That’s our family name.”
I looked at him.
“Then where is Lily?”
He didn’t answer.
Because at that exact moment, his phone rang.
It was his father.
Nathan answered.
His father’s voice was trembling.
“Son, your mother left something behind.”
“What?”
“A letter.”
Nathan stood completely still.
“What does it say?”
His father took a breath.
“It says Emily’s baby didn’t die.”
PART 7 — THE LETTER
Nathan drove to his father’s house as soon as we were discharged.
I stayed home with the babies.
That evening, he returned carrying a small wooden box.
Inside was Emily’s necklace.
A hospital bracelet.
And a sealed letter.
Nathan opened it with shaking hands.
The letter was written by his mother.
She confessed that Emily had secretly given birth to a daughter.
But the family had been terrified of scandal.
Emily was seventeen.
The baby’s father was unknown.
And Nathan’s mother had arranged for the child to be placed with another family.
Then came the most shocking sentence.
“Emily believed her baby had died. I told her that because I could not bear the shame.”
Nathan dropped the letter.
I covered my mouth.
“Your mother lied to her?”
He nodded.
“She told Emily the baby had died.”
“But why?”
Nathan looked at the final paragraph.
His face went white.
“Because she gave the baby to someone she trusted.”
“Who?”
He couldn’t speak.
Then he turned the letter around.
There was a name.
Dr. Helen Carter.
My name.
My mother’s name.
PART 8 — MY MOTHER
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