Chapter 8: The Boy Margaret Stole
Jordan stared at the birth record for so long that I thought he had stopped breathing.
Finally, he looked up.
“Are you telling me I'm adopted?””
David nodded.
“That's what the document suggests. But we need the DNA results before we can establish exactly what happened.””
Jordan pushed the paper away.
“No. I want to know who my parents are.””
Denise rushed toward him.
“I'm your mother.””
“You raised me. That's not the same question.””
She stopped as though he had slapped her.
Michael moved closer to his son.
“Jordan, whatever the results say, nothing changes the years we've shared.””
Jordan looked at him with wet eyes.
“Does that mean you're not my father either?””
Michael couldn't answer immediately.
That hesitation hurt Jordan more than any words could have.
David closed the briefcase.
“There's someone we need to find. A former hospital clerk named Patricia Lowe. She helped Margaret arrange the transfers.””
Eleanor, who had arrived earlier that morning, stiffened.
“Patricia Lowe died years ago.””
“Her husband did,” David replied.
“Patricia changed her name and moved to Arizona. I found her two months ago.””
Michael turned sharply.
“You knew where she was?””
“I wasn't sure she would speak. I needed proof first.””
David pulled a business card from his pocket.
“She agreed to meet me today.””
Jordan wiped his face.
“Then we're going.””
Denise caught his arm.
“Please don't do this.””
He looked down at her hand.
“Let go.””
She did.
He walked out without looking back.
Patricia Lowe lived in a modest retirement community outside Phoenix. She was seventy-nine, with white hair and a thin gold wedding ring she twisted whenever she was nervous.
When we entered her apartment, she stood beside the window with both hands clasped in front of her.
“I never thought I'd see any of you,” she said.
David set the birth records on her kitchen table.
“We need the truth.””
Patricia stared at the papers.
Then she looked at Jordan.
“You've grown into a fine-looking man.””
Jordan's expression hardened.
“Don't pretend you know me.””
She lowered her eyes.
“You're right. I don't.””
Michael placed Margaret's letter on the table.
“Tell us what she did.””
Patricia sat down slowly.
“Margaret Carter came to the hospital after both babies were born. She had arranged everything beforehand. Your daughter, Denise, had delivered a girl. Renee Williams had delivered a girl, too.””
I felt my pulse quicken.
“Why was Jordan brought into it?””
Patricia's hands tightened around each other.
“Because Margaret believed the Carter family needed a male heir. Denise had given birth to a girl, and Margaret was determined that the family company would pass to a grandson.””
Jordan looked sick.
“So she found a boy?””
Patricia nodded.
“A third baby was born that night. His mother was a young woman named Laura Bennett. She was unmarried, and Margaret offered to pay her medical bills if she signed temporary custody papers.””
Michael's voice rose.
“Temporary?””
“Margaret intended to adopt the boy into the family. She believed the hospital could arrange it quietly.””
Jordan stared at her.
“Did my mother know?””
Patricia looked toward Denise, who had followed us to Arizona despite everyone's objections.
“Not at first. She was told her daughter had died and that there was no other child available for adoption. Weeks later, Margaret brought a baby boy home and said the hospital had corrected a clerical error.””
Denise shook her head.
“She told me he was mine.””
Patricia's eyes filled with tears.
“You wanted to believe her. I remember that. You held him and cried.””
Jordan turned away.
The room felt too small.
“So my entire life was built on a lie,” he whispered.
David shook his head.
“No. The circumstances of your birth were hidden from you. The love you received was real, even if the people who raised you failed to tell you the truth.””
Jordan looked at Denise.
“Was it real?””
She stepped forward.
“Every birthday. Every school play. Every night you were sick.
Every time you fell asleep in the car and I carried you inside. I loved you, Jordan.””
He studied her face.
“Then why did you keep lying?””
Denise began to cry.
“Because I was afraid that if you knew the truth, you'd stop loving me.””
Jordan's shoulders sagged.
“I don't know what I feel right now.””
Patricia opened a drawer and removed a small notebook.
“Margaret kept a list of everyone involved. She believed it would protect her if anyone ever tried to expose her.””
She placed it in front of Michael.
Several names were written in neat handwriting.
The hospital administrator.
The investigator.
The family lawyer.
And, near the bottom, the name of the private laboratory that had supposedly confirmed Jordan's identity as Denise's son.
Michael frowned.
“This laboratory closed in 2001.””
Patricia nodded.
“Because the records were fabricated. Margaret paid someone to create a false parentage report after Jordan was brought home.””
Jordan gripped the edge of the table.
“So nobody ever tested me?””
“No,” Patricia said.
“Not honestly.””
I looked at the notebook.
“Does it say who Jordan's biological father is?””
Patricia hesitated.
“It names his mother. Laura Bennett. The father's identity was listed as unknown.””
David opened his briefcase.
“That's not the whole story.””
He removed a second document.
A handwritten note, dated several months before the births.
Margaret had written:
The boy's father must remain unnamed. If Michael discovers the truth, the company will be lost.
Michael stared at the words.
“What company scandal was she trying to hide?””
David looked at him.
“That's what I've been trying to establish. But I believe the answer is connected to the money she stole from the company.””
Patricia nodded slowly.
“Margaret was afraid the boy's father would come forward. She said he had a claim to the Carter family fortune.””
Jordan looked up.
“Who was he?””
Patricia closed her eyes.
“I never knew for certain. Margaret mentioned that he was a young man who worked at the shipping company. He disappeared around the same time David did.””
Michael went pale.
“Another missing employee?””
“Yes.””
David took out a photograph.
A young man stood outside a warehouse, wearing a work uniform. On the back was a name.
*Ethan Brooks.*
Michael stared at it.
“I remember him. He was an accountant. Mother accused him of stealing company funds before he vanished.””
David nodded.
“She used the same method twice. She made innocent men look like criminals, then arranged for them to disappear.””
Jordan looked between them.
“If Ethan Brooks was my father, why would Margaret hide me?””
“Because,” David replied, “she had spent years building a company on stolen money. If the truth about Ethan's disappearance came out, the investigation would expose everything.””
Patricia reached into the notebook and turned to the final page.
There was an address written beside Ethan's name.
A correctional facility in Ohio.
Jordan stared at it.
“Is he alive?””
Patricia swallowed.
“He was convicted of embezzlement in 1997. He's still alive, as far as I know.””
Michael looked at his son.
“We'll find him.””
Jordan shook his head.
“I need a minute.””
He walked onto the balcony.
I followed, leaving the others inside.
He stood gripping the railing, staring at the desert landscape beyond the retirement community.
“Do you still love me?”” he asked quietly.
The question hurt more than I expected.
I moved beside him.
“Yes.””
“Even if we turn out to be related?””
“We'll wait for the DNA results. We won't make assumptions.””
He nodded, but his eyes were full of fear.
“I've spent my whole life thinking I knew who I was. My father taught me how to ride a bike. My mother held my hand on my first day of school. Now I don't even know whether those memories belong to my real family.””
“They belong to you,” I said.
“Nobody can take them away.””
He turned toward me.
“And you? Your whole life changed in one night.””
I touched the pendant.
“My mother is still my mother. That doesn't change.””
For the first time since the truth began unraveling, Jordan smiled faintly.
Then his phone rang.
It was Michael.
Jordan answered.
“Dad?””
Michael's voice came through, strained and urgent.
“We've got a problem.””
“What happened?””
“The laboratory called. Your results are ready.””
Jordan went still.
Michael continued.
“Aaliyah's DNA confirms she's Denise's biological daughter. But there's something else.””
Jordan tightened his grip on the phone.
“What?””
Michael paused.
“The test shows that you and Aaliyah share no biological parents.””
Jordan closed his eyes in relief.
Then Michael delivered the second revelation.
“Your biological father has been identified. He's not Ethan Brooks.””
Jordan opened his eyes.
“Then who is he?””
Michael's voice dropped.
“David Williams.””
Jordan stared through the balcony doors at the elderly man inside.
David, who had loved Renee.
David, who had fathered Aaliyah.
David, who had just arrived to reclaim the family he had lost.
If David was Jordan's biological father, then Margaret's lie was even more monstrous than we'd imagined.
But it was impossible.
Jordan had been born years after David supposedly disappeared, and David had been in captivity.
Unless the records had been altered again.
Unless someone had used David's identity to conceal another truth.
Jordan turned back toward the apartment.
David stood in the doorway, his face ashen.
He had heard the phone call.
And he was shaking his head.
“No,” David whispered.
“That can't be right.””
May you like
Then he looked directly at Jordan.
“Because I know who your real father is.””
