Chapter 3 - Uncle Victor
Nobody had told Victor my name.
I knew that immediately.
Mr. Harrison knew it too.
The hallway seemed to go silent.
Victor recovered quickly.
Too quickly.
He smiled.
“Sarah mentioned him years ago.”
Mr. Harrison stared at him.
“You told me you hadn’t heard from Sarah in twelve years.”
Victor’s smile weakened.
“I meant directly.”
“When did she mention Caleb?”
Victor looked toward Mom’s room.
“This isn’t the place.”
“It became the place when you knew my grandson’s name.”
My grandson.
Those words still felt impossible.
Victor sighed.
“Arthur, you’re emotional.”
“And you’re avoiding the question.”
Victor lowered his voice.
“Sarah contacted me once.”
“When?”
“Years ago.”
“And you never told me?”
“She didn’t want you to know.”
Mr. Harrison stepped closer.
“Get out.”
Victor blinked.
“Excuse me?”
“You ignored my instructions and came anyway. Now leave.”
“Arthur, I’m your brother.”
“And Sarah is my daughter.”
Victor’s mouth tightened.
I watched him look at me once more.
It was not a kind look.
“I’m trying to protect you,” he said.
“From what?”
“From being manipulated.”
I hated him immediately.
Mr. Harrison did not move.
“Choose your next words carefully.”
Victor glanced toward the hospital door.
“Sarah disappears for more than a decade. Suddenly she reappears sick, homeless, with two children carrying the Harrison name.”
My face burned.
“She’s not lying,” I said.
Victor looked at me.
“I didn’t say she was.”
“You did.”
“Caleb,” Mr. Harrison said softly.
But Victor smiled.
“You’re protective. That’s good.”
“Don’t talk to him,” Mr. Harrison snapped.
Victor raised both hands.
“Fine. I’m leaving.”
Before he turned away, he leaned closer to his brother.
“Just remember how Sarah left.”
Mr. Harrison said nothing.
“How she accused everyone.”
Still silence.
“And remember what she wanted.”
Victor walked away.
I watched him enter the elevator.
The second the doors closed, I asked:
“What did Mom want?”
Mr. Harrison looked exhausted.
“Freedom.”
That answer surprised me.
He sat beside me.
“Twelve years ago, your mother and I fought constantly.”
“About Dad?”
“About Dean, yes.”
I stiffened.
“You knew him?”
“I met him.”
“What did you think?”
Mr. Harrison’s jaw tightened.
“I thought he was dangerous.”
“He is.”
“I know that now.”
He looked toward Mom’s door.
“But back then, Sarah thought I was trying to control her.”
“What did you do?”
“I told her if she chose him, I wouldn’t finance their life.”
“That sounds mean.”
“It was pride.”
He did not defend himself.
That surprised me.
“I believed she would come home within a week.”
“She didn’t.”
“No.”
“Why didn’t you look for her?”
His eyes filled with shame.
“I did at first.”
“At first?”
“She sent letters.”
I frowned.
“She said you sent letters.”
Mr. Harrison stared at me.
“What?”
“Mom has some.”
He leaned closer.
“What letters?”
“The ones saying you didn’t want her.”
“I never wrote those.”
“She kept one.”
“Where?”
I thought about our bags.
Then remembered.
“Mom’s coat.”
We found it folded over a chair in her hospital room.
Mom was awake but weak.
“Caleb?”
“I’m here.”
I hugged her carefully.
Rosie climbed onto the bed beside her.
Mr. Harrison stood at the foot.
Mom looked at him.
Then at the coat in my hands.
“What are you doing?”
“The letter,” I said.
Her face changed.
“Caleb.”
“Grandpa says he didn’t write it.”
Mom looked sharply at Mr. Harrison.
He stepped closer.
“I didn’t.”
Mom stared at him for several seconds.
Then she closed her eyes.
“In the lining.”
I found a small tear near the bottom hem.
Inside was a folded piece of paper.
Old.
Yellowed.
I handed it to him.
He opened it.
His face went pale.
Mom whispered, “Read it.”
His voice shook.
“Sarah. You made your choice. You are no longer my daughter. Do not contact me again. Any child you have with Dean will never be part of this family.”
He stopped.
Rosie looked scared.
Mom’s eyes filled.
“Keep going.”
Mr. Harrison looked at the signature.
“Arthur Harrison.”
He lowered the page.
“I did not write this.”
“Victor delivered it.”
Mr. Harrison looked at her.
“When?”
“Three weeks after I left.”
“Why would you believe him?”
“Because you told me I would regret walking out.”
He flinched.
“I said terrible things.”
“Yes.”
“But not this.”
Mom turned her face toward the window.
“I wrote you anyway.”
“I received two letters.”
“I sent dozens.”
Mr. Harrison’s breathing changed.
“Dozens?”
“Birth announcements. Pictures. An apology. A request for help.”
His face collapsed.
“I never received them.”
Mom looked at him.
“When Caleb was born, I begged you to call me.”
“I didn’t know.”
“Victor said you burned the letter.”
Mr. Harrison sat down.
For the first time, I understood that adults could be destroyed by words too.
Mom continued.
“Later, Victor came to see me.”
“When?”
“Caleb was two.”
“What did he want?”
Mom looked at me.
Then Rosie.
“He wanted me to sign something.”
Mr. Harrison’s voice became hard.
“What?”
“A document giving up my rights to the family trust.”
“Did you sign?”
“No.”
A strange silence followed.
Mom swallowed.
“Dean wanted me to.”
That was when I saw Mr. Harrison understand.
“Dean and Victor knew each other.”
Mom nodded.
“They knew each other before Dean ever met me.”
My stomach twisted.
Mr. Harrison stood slowly.
“How?”
“I found payments.”
“What payments?”
“Victor’s company was sending money to Dean.”
“For what?”
“I never found out.”
Mom’s eyes moved toward the door.
“But when I confronted Dean, he hit the wall beside my head and told me I had just made the biggest mistake of my life.”
Rosie grabbed Mom’s hand.
Mr. Harrison looked sick.
“Where is the evidence?”
Mom hesitated.
“I hid it.”
“Where?”
“In a storage unit.”
Mr. Harrison leaned closer.
“Sarah, tell me where.”
Before she could answer, the hospital room door opened.
A nurse walked in holding a bouquet.
“These were delivered for you.”
Mom frowned.
“There’s no card.”
I looked at the flowers.
White lilies.
Mom’s face turned gray.
“Get those out.”
The nurse stopped.
“What?”
“Get them out!”
Mr. Harrison grabbed the bouquet.
“What is it?”
Mom was breathing too fast.
“Dean used to bring me lilies after he hurt me.”
Mr. Harrison looked at the door.
Then at me.
A cold feeling moved through my chest.
May you like
Because if Dean knew which hospital Mom was in...
then somebody had told him.
