I closed the study door behind us and placed Renata gently on the sofa. “Sweetheart, did Grandma say anything about the letter?”
She nodded. “She said if you read it, you might not want me anymore.”
My chest tightened. I kissed her forehead. “Nothing in that envelope could ever change who you are to me.”
Then I broke the seal.
Inside were adoption records, a photograph, and a letter from attorney Samuel Price. The first sentence made my hands tremble.
Mr. DeLuca, new evidence suggests your daughter’s biological mother was deliberately misidentified.
I looked at Carmen. “What does this mean?”
My father stepped forward. “Mauricio, put it away.”
I ignored him and unfolded the photograph.
A young woman stood outside our family estate, holding a newborn wrapped in a pink blanket. I recognized her immediately.
Elena Rossi.
My former fiancée.
The woman my parents claimed had abandoned me seven years earlier.
My mother sank into a chair.
“Elena had a baby?” I whispered.
Carmen began crying. “We thought we were protecting you.”
I turned to the next page. The lawyer had included a copy of Elena’s final letter, written shortly before her death.
Please tell Mauricio our daughter deserves to know her father.
My heart pounded.
Renata looked up at me. “Daddy, why are you crying?”
I pulled her close, unable to speak.
For four years, I had believed I was raising someone else’s child.
But the letter claimed Renata was mine.
Then my phone rang.
Samuel Price.
“Mr. DeLuca,” he said urgently, “have you opened the envelope?”
“Yes.”
“Then listen carefully. Your parents weren’t the only people involved in hiding Renata’s identity.”
I stared at Carmen.
The attorney continued.
“Someone recently requested that Renata’s adoption be overturned. And the person who filed that petition claims to be her biological mother.”
My breath stopped.
“Elena is dead.”
There was a long silence.
“Mr. DeLuca,” he said, “that’s exactly what your parents told us seven years ago.”
