Chapter 7 - The Photograph Sophia Never Meant Him to See
The photograph showed a young woman holding a newborn beside a hospital window. Her hair was dark, her expression exhausted and tender. On the back, in blue ink, someone had written: LUCY AND HER BOY. APRIL 14.
Ethan sat on the bed with the photograph on his phone, staring at it as if looking hard enough could make the woman speak.
"Sophia says it's proof she saved me," he told us. "She says my birth mother didn't want me."
"A photograph proves neither of those things," I said.
Vincent crouched so he was eye level with Ethan. "You can ask Sophia questions. You don't have to believe her answers without evidence."
"Why did she send it now?"
Nobody answered. We all knew the likely reason: she wanted to tell her version before anyone else could.
The next morning we met our attorney, Daniel Price, in a conference room near the hotel. Daniel was older than I remembered, his hair nearly white. He had been the young legal assistant who drove me to the bus station in Chicago. Seeing him again brought back the smell of wet pavement and the sound of my suitcase wheels catching on broken concrete.
"We have to separate three issues," Daniel said. "The intercepted payments to Claire, the false statements surrounding her divorce, and Ethan's birth records. They may overlap, but we can't assume they're one scheme."
I was grateful for the distinction. It was too easy to turn every strange detail into one enormous conspiracy. The truth would be harder and less convenient.
Daniel had obtained an archived docket from the old adoption case. The named witness was Miriam Hale. The person who had withdrawn her testimony was Lucy Mercer, a nineteen-year-old patient whose infant had been reported stillborn. The clinic had later closed after regulators discovered missing patient files.
"Lucy Mercer," Ethan whispered. He looked at the photograph again. "Could that be her?"
"Possibly," Daniel said. "We need records and independent confirmation."
Noah had been quiet all morning. Now he opened his laptop and showed Daniel a spreadsheet.
"The account that received Mom's support payments was opened through a trust company," he said. "I checked the publicly available corporate filings. The registered agent also represented the clinic's parent company."
Daniel leaned forward. "That's useful. Send me the links. Don't try to access anything private."
Noah nodded. He had inherited my stubbornness and Vincent's appetite for patterns. I was proud of his care, and frightened by how close the patterns were bringing him to people who might not welcome scrutiny.
By noon Daniel had arranged for a licensed investigator to contact Miriam through her attorney. He advised us not to visit unannounced. Ethan agreed, though he was visibly disappointed.
Vincent received a call from his company's chief compliance officer. He stepped into the hallway. When he returned, he looked as if he'd aged another decade.
"A set of old invoices was recovered from the family office," he said. "Payments to the clinic, the trust company, and a private investigator. All approved by my mother."
"And Sophia?" I asked.
"Her signature is on the payment instructions."
Ethan looked away. I wanted to reach for him, but I was not his mother, and I would not pretend to be one because his life was suddenly in pieces.
That afternoon Sophia called him again. This time he put the phone on speaker, after asking us to stay.
"Darling," she began, "they're trying to confuse you."
"Who is Lucy Mercer?" Ethan asked.
Silence.
"Ethan, some women make choices they regret. I was the one who stayed."
"That wasn't my question."
Sophia's voice sharpened. "Your father is letting Claire Bennett poison this family. That woman has always wanted what belongs to me."
I felt Vincent move beside me, but Ethan spoke first.
"I'm not a thing that belongs to anybody."
Sophia inhaled sharply. "Of course you're not. I only meant—"
"Did you give birth to me?"
Another silence, longer this time.
"I raised you," she said.
"Did you give birth to me?"
"We'll discuss this when you come home."
"No," Ethan replied. "We'll discuss it when you're ready to answer."
He ended the call. His hands were shaking. Vincent wrapped an arm around him, and Ethan leaned into his father's shoulder for a moment before pulling away.
"I don't want to go back to Chicago with her," he said.
"You won't have to decide anything today," Vincent answered.
That evening Noah asked Ethan to walk with him along the Charles River. I watched from the hotel window as they disappeared around the corner, two young men who had met as strangers at an awards ceremony and now shared a history neither had chosen.
They came back an hour later carrying takeout cups and talking about campus housing. It was a relief to hear them argue about something as harmless as whether a dorm room could fit two desks.
At nine, Daniel called. Miriam's attorney had spoken to her. She was willing to meet, but only if Ethan came of his own choice and Vincent agreed that no one from the Moretti company would be present.
Ethan said yes immediately.
Then Daniel added one more detail. Miriam had asked whether Lucy Mercer was still alive.
May you like
"Why wouldn't she be?" I asked.
Daniel hesitated. "Because according to the official records, Lucy died the night Ethan was born."
