Chapter 10: The Son My Father Chose
The darkness inside the archive felt heavier than it should have.
For a few seconds, nobody moved.
The only sound was my own breathing.
Then Daniel’s phone flashlight turned on, cutting through the black room.
“Don’t touch anything,” he said.
I barely heard him.
My eyes were locked on the DNA report in my hand.
Not my biological son.
The words didn’t make sense.
They looked like a mistake.
A typo.
A cruel joke.
I looked at Daniel.
“You knew.””
His face tightened.
“I knew there was a possibility.””
“A possibility?””
I held up the report.
“This says my entire life is a lie.””
“No,” Daniel said quietly.
“It says one part of your life is not what you believed.””
I laughed.
A painful, empty laugh.
“That’s supposed to make me feel better?””
He didn’t answer.
Because there was no answer.
My father wasn’t my biological father.
The man who taught me how to ride a bike.
The man who showed up at every school event.
The man whose voice I had just heard on that recording.
The man I spent fifteen years missing.
Wasn’t connected to me by blood.
My phone buzzed again.
My mother.
I stared at the message.
*Come alone. I know.*
I showed it to Daniel.
He immediately shook his head.
“No.””
“She’s my mother.””
“She’s also someone who kept this secret.””
I looked at him.
“You think she’s lying?””
“I think everyone in this story has lied.””
That hurt because it was true.
I walked out of the archive.
Daniel followed.
“Marcus.””
I stopped.
“What?””
“You cannot go there without knowing what you’re walking into.””
I looked at him.
“My whole life has been people deciding what I can handle.””
My voice cracked.
“My mother. Nia. My father. Everyone.””
I stepped closer.
“I’m done being protected.””
Daniel didn’t argue.
Instead, he handed me the DNA report.
“Then take this.””
I drove to my mother’s house alone.
The same house where I grew up.
The same place where she packed my lunches.
The same place where she told me everything would be okay.
Now every wall felt like it was hiding something.
When I knocked, the door opened immediately.
My mother was standing there.
She looked like she had been waiting.
“You found it.””
I stepped inside.
“You knew.””
She closed the door.
“Yes.””
The honesty shocked me.
No denial.
No excuse.
Just yes.
“When?””
Her eyes filled with tears.
“Before you were born.””
I froze.
“What?””
She walked toward the kitchen table.
There were old photographs spread across it.
Pictures I had never seen.
My mother.
My father.
And another man.
A man who looked strangely familiar.
She picked up one photo.
“Your biological father’s name was Thomas Reed.””
I stared at the picture.
“Who is he?””
My mother sat down.
“He was my first love.””
The room felt unreal.
“Then what happened?””
She looked at the photograph.
“He left before you were born.””
“And Dad?””
She smiled sadly.
“Your father met me when I was pregnant.””
I swallowed.
“He knew?””
“Yes.””
“About Thomas?””
“Yes.””
“Then why did he raise me?””
My mother’s eyes filled.
“Because he loved you.””
The answer hurt more than I expected.
“Love doesn’t change biology.””
“No,” she whispered.
“But biology never made him your father. He chose that.””
I looked away.
All my anger suddenly became complicated.
My father had known.
He had known I wasn’t his.
And he stayed.
“Why didn’t you tell me?””
“Because I was afraid.””
“Of what?””
“That you would think he didn’t love you.””
I looked at her.
“And you thought lying would make that easier?””
She cried silently.
“I was wrong.””
A long silence passed.
Then I remembered something.
“The DNA report.””
My mother froze.
“Where did you get that?””
“The archive.””
Her expression changed.
Fear.
Not surprise.
Fear.
“Marcus, you need to understand something.””
“What?””
“That report was never supposed to exist.””
I frowned.
“Why?””
“Because your father destroyed every copy.””
My stomach tightened.
“Then who made this one?””
My mother looked toward the window.
And whispered:
“The person who wanted you to doubt him.””
A sound came from outside.
A car door closing.
My mother stood immediately.
“You need to leave.””
I looked at her.
“Why?””
Her face turned pale.
“Because they found you.””
The front door handle moved.
Someone was trying to open it.
My mother grabbed my arm.
“Go through the back.””
I stared at her.
“Who is it?””
She whispered:
“The person who has been controlling this entire story from the beginning.””
The lock cracked.
And then a voice came from the other side of the door.
“Evelyn.””
I froze.
May you like
I knew that voice.
Nia’s mother.
