Chapter 6: The Birth Certificate
I stared at Samuel.
“Say that again.””
He couldn’t.
So I did it for him.
“Margaret wasn’t my mother?””
“She was your mother in every way that mattered.””
“That isn’t what I asked.””
Lily stood beside Mrs. Carter.
I forced myself to lower my voice.
“Who gave birth to me?””
Samuel looked toward the security footage.
“Evelyn.””
The room tilted.
“No.””
“You were born in December 1992.””
“I know when I was born.””
“Margaret wasn’t pregnant that year.””
My mind searched backward through everything I had ever been told.
There were photographs of Mum holding me as a newborn.
Pictures from the hospital.
Birthday cards.
Baby albums.
But suddenly I realised what was missing.
Pregnancy photographs.
I had never seen one.
“Why would Evelyn give me to Margaret?””
Samuel rubbed his forehead.
“Because Evelyn was seventeen.””
My anger disappeared beneath something colder.
I looked at him.
“And you?””
His eyes widened.
“No. God, no. I wasn’t your biological father.””
“But the photograph—”
“Margaret wrote that because she wanted you to think of me as your father if the truth came out.””
“Then who is?””
Samuel sat heavily.
“I never knew.””
I took Lily into the kitchen and crouched beside her.
“Mrs. Carter is going to keep you here a little longer.””
“Are you leaving again?””
“Yes.””
She wrapped her arms around my neck.
“Come back.””
“I will.””
“Promise?””
I closed my eyes.
“Promise.””
Outside, Samuel stopped beside my SUV.
“Don’t go to that address.””
“I’m going.””
“Then I’m coming.””
“The note says alone.””
“The people who wrote that note already know I’m alive.””
He had a point.
At 6:42 p.m., we reached the address.
It was an abandoned maternity clinic outside town.
Its windows were boarded.
The sign had faded until only three letters remained visible.
Samuel stared at the building.
“I’ve been here before.””
“When?””
“The night you were born.””
We entered through an unlocked side door.
Dust covered the corridor.
At the far end, a battery lantern glowed.
Beside it sat a cardboard archive box.
No Evelyn.
No tall man.
I approached the box.
Inside were medical records.
The first folder had my name on it.
*DANIEL REEVES.*
My hands shook as I opened it.
Birth date.
Weight.
Time of delivery.
Then:
*MOTHER: EVELYN HALE.*
Father:
*THOMAS HALE.*
I stopped breathing.
“No.””
Samuel took the page.
His face changed.
“That’s impossible.””
“Why?””
“Thomas was Evelyn’s brother.””
I stared at him.
Then something clicked.
Maybe the document wasn’t saying what it appeared to say.
“Could this be forged?””
“Absolutely.””
A slow clap echoed through the corridor.
Samuel spun around.
A man stepped from a doorway.
Tall.
Grey-haired.
Expensive black coat.
I recognised him instantly.
Thomas Hale.
The man who had stood beside my mother’s coffin.
“Still suspicious, Samuel,” Thomas said.
Samuel moved in front of me.
“You stay away from him.””
Thomas smiled.
“Thirty-four years underground and you still think you’re the hero.””
“Where’s Evelyn?””
“Nearby.””
I raised the birth certificate.
“What is this?””
Thomas looked at it.
“Bait.””
My stomach tightened.
“Then who is my father?””
Thomas smiled.
“That’s the question Margaret spent her entire life preventing you from asking.””
Samuel stepped toward him.
“Tell him.””
“You don’t get to give orders anymore.””
Thomas looked at me.
“Margaret convinced Samuel that I murdered Peter Walsh. Samuel disappeared. Margaret took you. Everyone played their assigned role.””
“Did you kill Peter?””
“No.””
Samuel shouted, “Liar!””
Thomas ignored him.
“Peter Walsh didn’t die that night.””
Samuel froze.
“I saw him.””
“You saw a man on the kitchen floor.””
“I checked his pulse.””
“And you were twenty-six, panicking, with blood everywhere.””
Samuel went silent.
Thomas removed a phone.
He played a video.
An elderly man appeared on screen.
He looked directly into the camera.
“My name is Peter Walsh.””
Samuel stumbled backward.
“No.””
Peter continued.
“On October seventeenth, 1992, Margaret Reeves asked me to help stage my death.””
Thomas stopped the video.
“Why?”” I demanded.
“Because Margaret needed Samuel frightened enough to disappear.””
Samuel’s face drained.
“That’s not true.””
Thomas shrugged.
“Ask Evelyn.””
As if summoned, footsteps sounded behind us.
The woman from Mrs. Carter’s camera entered.
Up close, the resemblance to my mother was devastating.
She looked at me.
Tears filled her eyes.
“Daniel.””
I couldn’t answer.
She approached slowly.
“I have waited thirty-four years to say this.””
“You’re Evelyn?””
“Yes.””
“My biological mother?””
Her mouth trembled.
“Yes.””
“Then why did Margaret raise me?””
Evelyn looked at Samuel.
“Because I begged her to take you.””
“Why?””
She reached into her coat and removed another document.
“Because your father was going to use you to control me.””
I looked at Thomas.
Evelyn shook her head.
“Not him.””
Thomas gave a tired laugh.
“That birth certificate was Margaret’s insurance policy. She put my name there so the real father could never claim you.””
“Who was he?””
Evelyn handed me the document.
It was a marriage certificate.
Her name appeared first.
*EVELYN HALE.*
Below it was the groom’s name.
My hands went numb.
Because I knew that name.
Everyone in our town did.
Judge William Reeves.
My grandfather.
The man I had been taught was Margaret’s father.
I looked at Evelyn.
“This says you married my grandfather.””
“He wasn’t your grandfather.””
Her voice dropped.
“He was your father.””
Before I could process it, Samuel suddenly grabbed the paper.
His face changed.
“This date.””
“What about it?””
Samuel pointed.
“This marriage happened in 1994.””
Two years after I was born.
Evelyn looked toward Thomas.
Then back at me.
“Exactly.””
A door slammed somewhere deeper inside the clinic.
Thomas spun around.
Evelyn whispered, “He found us.””
“Who?”” I asked.
She stepped backward.
“The man whose name Margaret erased from every record.””
Heavy footsteps began approaching through the dark corridor.
Evelyn stared past me.
May you like
And whispered:
“Your real father.””
