Chapter 8: The Truth About My Blood
Sarah didn’t speak for almost a minute.
That silence hurt more than any answer.
“Ethan.””
I shook my head.
“No.””
My voice cracked.
“I’m tired of waiting for people to decide when I’m ready.””
She looked down.
“You deserve the truth.””
“Yes.””
She took a deep breath.
“Daniel is your father.””
Relief and confusion hit me at the same time.
“Then why did Richard say that?””
Sarah closed her eyes.
“Because he wanted to hurt me.””
“About what?””
She sat down.
“When you were born, Richard wanted Daniel to leave me.””
“Why?””
“Because he never thought I was good enough for his family.””
I listened.
“Daniel chose me anyway.””
“And then?””
“Then when you were born, Richard changed tactics.””
“How?””
“He convinced Daniel that I would leave with you.””
Sarah looked at me.
“He planted doubt.””
The story was becoming clearer.
Richard didn’t steal me directly.
He poisoned everyone around me.
“But why would Daniel believe him?””
Sarah looked heartbroken.
“Because Daniel was afraid.””
“Of what?””
“Losing you.””
I looked away.
A part of me understood.
That was the painful part.
People could hurt you because they loved you.
But that didn’t make the hurt disappear.
Days passed.
I stopped going to graduation celebrations.
Stopped answering most messages.
My classmates were posting pictures.
College announcements.
Family celebrations.
And I was sitting in a room trying to understand why my entire childhood felt like a stranger’s story.
One night, Sarah gave me something.
A journal.
“My diary from when you were a baby.””
I hesitated.
“Are you sure?””
“Yes.””
I opened it.
The first page had a date.
The day I was born.
The entries were filled with ordinary things.
How much I cried.
How I hated sleeping.
How I smiled whenever music played.
Tiny details.
The kind only a mother would remember.
Then I reached the final pages.
The last entry before I disappeared.
*Daniel says everything will be okay. I want to believe him.*
The next page was blank.
I looked at Sarah.
“That’s where it happened?””
She nodded.
“I was taken the next morning.””
I turned the page.
But something fell out.
A photograph.
A picture of Sarah holding me.
On the back was handwriting.
Not hers.
My father’s.
*I’m sorry.*
My heart stopped.
Sarah looked confused.
“Where did you get that?””
“It was inside the journal.””
She took it.
Her hands shook.
“That’s impossible.””
“Why?””
“Because I never saw this.””
That night, I called my father.
He answered immediately.
“Ethan?””
“I found something.””
Silence.
“I found the picture.””
Another silence.
“Dad.””
Finally, he spoke.
“I was going to tell you.””
“When?””
“I don’t know.””
I closed my eyes.
“Why write sorry?””
His voice broke.
“Because I knew what I was doing was wrong.””
The honesty hurt.
“Then why did you do it?””
A long pause.
“Because Richard threatened me.””
“With what?””
My father whispered:
“He threatened to take you away permanently.””
I froze.
“What does that mean?””
“He had people. Lawyers. Connections.””
My father’s voice became quieter.
“He said if Sarah fought back, he would make sure neither of us saw you again.””
I sat there in silence.
Then my father said something else.
“But Ethan, there’s one thing I never told anyone.””
“What?””
“I wasn’t the person who reported Sarah as dangerous.””
My grip tightened.
“Who did?””
My father answered:
“Vanessa.””
I stood up.
“No.””
“I’m sorry.””
“Dad, stop blaming everyone else.””
“I’m not.””
His voice shook.
“She did it because Richard forced her.””
I didn’t know what to believe anymore.
Everyone had a reason.
Everyone had an excuse.
Everyone had a version of the truth.
Then my phone buzzed.
A message.
May you like
From Vanessa.
*Meet me alone. I found the proof that will end this.*
