I called my mother immediately.
She answered on the second ring.
“Adrian? Where are you?”
“Did you pay someone to make Claire disappear?”
Silence.
A long silence.
Then:
“Where did you hear that?”
My entire body went cold.
“You didn’t deny it.”
“Adrian, listen to me.”
“No. You listen to me.”
I had never spoken to my mother that way.
“Claire is here.”
Another silence.
“She has two children.”
My mother breathed sharply.
“They’re yours.”
The words came out like a confession.
I closed my eyes.
“You knew.”
“Yes.”
“For five years?”
“I knew she was pregnant.”
“Did you know about the twins?”
“Yes.”
I felt something inside me break.
“You knew I had sons.”
“I thought I was protecting you.”
“From my own children?”
“From Claire.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
My mother finally admitted that she had paid a private investigator to follow Claire.
She had also intercepted several letters.
But she insisted she had never threatened Claire.
“That woman wanted money,” my mother said.
“No.”
“She wanted to trap you.”
“No.”
“Adrian, you’re letting emotion control you.”
“My sons are five years old because of you.”
She began crying.
But I wasn’t finished.
“What happened to the letters?”
“I destroyed them.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
“All of them?”
“Yes.”
“Except one.”
She stopped breathing.
I knew immediately.
“What?”
“The last letter.”
My mother said nothing.
“Where is it?”
“I don’t have it.”
“Who does?”
Another silence.
Then she whispered:
“Your father.”
I froze.
My father had died three years earlier.
“That’s impossible.”
“Before he died, he found out what I had done.”
I felt dizzy.
“What did he do?”
“He told me he had copied everything.”
My mother’s voice cracked.
“He left instructions that if anything happened to him, the truth would be delivered to you.”
I looked at Claire.
She was watching me.
“Where is it?”
My mother whispered:
“In the old Lakehurst estate.”
The same estate I was supposed to be buying.
The biggest business deal of my career.
Suddenly I understood.
The estate wasn’t just a property.
My father had hidden the truth there.
Part 5 — The Box in the Attic
That evening, I drove Claire and the boys to a hotel.
Not one of mine.
I didn’t want anyone connected to my business knowing where they were.
The twins slept in the back seat.
Claire sat beside me.
For nearly an hour, neither of us spoke.
Finally she whispered:
“Do you hate me?”
I looked at her.
“I hated you for six years.”
She swallowed.
“But now?”
“Now I’m angry at everyone who stole those years from us.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
I reached across the center console.
She hesitated.
Then she took my hand.
For the first time in six years, our fingers touched.
It felt painfully familiar.
The next morning, we drove to Lakehurst.
The estate had been empty for years.
My father had owned it before transferring it into the company.
We entered through the old side door.
Dust covered everything.
Claire followed behind me.
“Where would your father hide something?”
“I don’t know.”
We searched his study first.
Nothing.
Then the library.
Nothing.
Finally, I remembered something.
When I was a child, my father used to take me into the attic.
There was an old wooden chest he never allowed me to open.
I climbed the stairs.
Claire followed.
The chest was still there.
I opened it.
Inside were old photographs, business documents, and letters.
At the bottom was a black folder.
My name was on it.
I opened the folder.
The first page was a letter from my father.
Adrian,
If you’re reading this, then I am gone, and you have finally learned what your mother did.
My hands trembled.
Claire never abandoned you.
She was forced out of your life.
I discovered the truth too late.
Then came copies of bank transfers.
Payments made by my mother.
Payments to a private investigator.
Payments to a lawyer.
And finally…
A recording.
My father had secretly recorded a conversation between Margaret and the investigator.
My mother’s voice was unmistakable.
“I don’t care where she goes. I just want her away from my son.”
Then the investigator asked:
“And the children?”
My mother’s answer destroyed me.
“If they’re his, they’ll be raised without him.”
Claire covered her mouth.
I couldn’t breathe.
Then another voice entered the recording.
My father’s.
“Margaret, what have you done?”
The recording ended.
Claire was crying silently.
I turned toward her.
“I am so sorry.”
She shook her head.
“You didn’t do this.”
“No. But I should have searched harder.”
She looked at me.
“You searched.”
“Not hard enough.”
Before she could answer, my phone rang.
It was the police.
“Mr. Bennett?”
“Yes?”
“We need you to come to the station.”
“Why?”
There was a pause.
“Your mother has reported Claire Hayes for kidnapping.”
Part 6 — The DNA Test
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