Chapter 4: The Son Who Was Never His
Preston read the sentence three times.
Russell is not your biological father.
The paper trembled between his fingers.
For thirty-six years, he had carried the Mitchell name with pride. He had grown up believing Russell was his biological father, had followed his footsteps into the family business, and had spent most of his adult life trying to earn his approval.
Now his mother's handwriting was telling him that the foundation of his entire identity was a lie.
"What does this mean?"" Preston whispered.
Aunt Denise sat down opposite him.
"It means Margaret wanted you to know the truth.""
Preston looked up.
"Who is my father?""
Denise pressed her lips together.
"Your mother never told me his name.""
"You're lying.""
"I'm not.""
"You knew about this?""
"Not until after Margaret died. She told me there was something in her medical records that Russell had tried to suppress.""
Preston looked at the letter again.
His eyes moved to the next paragraph.
Russell raised you, and for many years I believed that was enough. But he knew the truth before we married. He promised me he would never use it against you.
Preston's jaw tightened.
When you were born, Russell agreed to give you his name. I believed we could build a family on love, even if the truth was complicated.
I was wrong about one thing. A man who can lie about his own family can eventually convince himself that everyone belongs to him.
Preston lowered the letter.
"Denise, who is my biological father?""
She shook her head.
"Margaret said she would explain everything herself. But she became ill before she could.""
"Did Russell know?""
Denise nodded.
"Yes.""
Preston stood abruptly.
"Bring him here.""
"Preston—"
"Bring my father here!""
Denise didn't move.
Preston grabbed his jacket from the chair and headed toward the door.
But before he could open it, Russell stepped inside.
"What's going on?""
Preston held up the letter.
"Did you know?""
Russell looked at the envelope.
His expression hardened.
"Where did you get that?""
"Answer the question.""
"Your mother was sick. She wasn't thinking clearly.""
Preston stepped closer.
"Did you know I wasn't your biological son?""
Russell's eyes moved briefly toward Denise.
Then he sighed.
"Yes.""
The answer landed harder than the DNA report.
Preston stared at him.
"All my life?""
"Your mother and I had an arrangement.""
"An arrangement?""
Russell straightened his shirt.
"I raised you. I paid for your education. I gave you opportunities other boys could only dream about. I never treated you differently.""
"You let me believe you were my biological father.""
"Because I was your father in every way that mattered.""
Preston's face twisted.
"Then why did you never tell me?""
"Because it would have changed nothing.""
"You're wrong.""
Russell moved toward the desk.
"Preston, you have a successful business, a beautiful home, and a family coming. Don't destroy your life over something that happened before you could even speak.""
Preston laughed bitterly.
"A family coming?""
He held up the paternity report.
"Is that what you call this?""
Russell's eyes narrowed.
"That matter is separate.""
"Separate? You slept with my fiancée!""
"She came to me.""
Brianna stood up.
"That's not true!""
Russell turned toward her.
"Be careful.""
Brianna's face went pale.
Preston noticed.
"Why is she afraid of you?""
Russell ignored him.
"Your fiancée has made mistakes. But I have spent thirty-six years protecting this family.""
Preston looked at the letter.
"From what?""
Russell remained silent.
Then Preston asked the question that had been sitting in his throat.
"Who is my real father?""
Russell's face changed.
It wasn't anger this time.
It was fear.
Aunt Denise noticed it too.
She slowly stood.
"Russell, Margaret left more than that letter.""
He turned toward her.
"Denise, don't.""
"She left a name.""
Russell slammed his palm against the desk.
"Enough!""
Preston stared at him.
"Tell me.""
Russell took a long breath.
Then he spoke.
"Your biological father was a man your mother knew before she met me.""
"Name.""
"His name was Thomas Carter.""
Preston frowned.
"Thomas Carter?""
Russell nodded reluctantly.
"He worked with your grandfather. He died when you were young.""
Preston looked at Denise.
She was crying.
"Do you know him?"" he asked.
Denise nodded.
"He was your mother's first love.""
Preston looked down at the letter.
There was another folded sheet inside the envelope.
He pulled it out.
At the bottom, Margaret had written an address.
And beneath the address were six words.
Ask Thomas's daughter what happened.
Preston looked up.
"His daughter?""
Denise nodded slowly.
"Her name is Nyla.""
The room went completely silent.
Across Dallas, Nyla sat in her apartment with a cup of tea growing cold beside her.
She had taken off her earrings and changed into a comfortable sweater.
The evening had left her exhausted.
She had expected Preston to be angry.
She had expected Brianna to be humiliated.
But she hadn't expected Margaret Mitchell's name to return to her life.
Her phone rang.
It was an unfamiliar number.
Nyla answered cautiously.
"Hello?""
A man's voice came through.
"Nyla?""
"Who's calling?""
"It's Preston.""
She closed her eyes.
"What do you want?""
"I need to ask you something.""
"Then ask.""
"Did you know my mother?""
Nyla frowned.
"Of course I did.""
"Did she ever tell you about a man named Thomas Carter?""
The teacup slipped slightly in Nyla's hand.
She placed it on the table.
"Why are you asking me that?""
Preston's voice weakened.
"Because apparently, he's my biological father.""
Nyla said nothing.
Then Preston asked the question that changed everything.
"Who was Thomas Carter to you?""
Nyla looked at an old photograph on the bookshelf.
A smiling Black man stood beside a little girl with two missing front teeth.
She picked it up.
"My father," she whispered.
May you like
On the other end of the line, Preston stopped speaking.
And Nyla realized that the truth was much bigger than the DNA report.
