Part 5: Eleanor’s Offer
Eleanor arrived at our house the next morning.
She carried a leather folder and a cashier’s check.
Anna was still at the hospital with Caleb, while I had come home to shower and collect clothes.
Eleanor walked into the kitchen without being invited.
“I heard about the test,” she said.
“How?”
“I have friends on the hospital board.”
I felt my anger rise.
“You had no right to access our private information.”
“This is no longer private. It is a disaster.”
“My son is sick.”
“That is unfortunate.”
Unfortunate.
She said it as if Caleb were a damaged piece of furniture.
She placed the leather folder on the table.
Inside were divorce papers.
The cashier’s check was for two million dollars.
I stared at her.
“What is this?”
“A solution.”
“To what?”
“Take Owen and leave quietly. The money will give you both a comfortable life.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
“And Anna?”
“She’ll recover eventually.”
“What about Caleb?”
Her mouth tightened.
“That child is not Anna’s. Whatever mistake produced him is not our responsibility.”
I stepped toward her.
“He is six months old.”
“He is evidence of a scandal.”
“He is your grandson.”
“No,” she said coldly. “Owen is my grandson.”
I tore the check in half.
Eleanor’s eyes widened.
Then I tore the divorce papers.
“You need to leave.”
“You’re making an emotional decision.”
“I am making a decision as a father.”
She leaned closer.
“You don’t understand the damage this could do to Anna’s name.”
“I don’t care about her name. I care about her life.”
For the first time, Eleanor lost control.
“You have no idea what that child represents!”
The room went silent.
I studied her face.
“You know.”
Her expression changed.
It was only for a second, but I saw it.
She knew exactly how Caleb could be my son without appearing genetically related to Anna.
Before I could question her, the front door opened.
Anna stood there, holding an overnight bag.
She had heard enough.
Her mother turned toward her.
“Tell him to accept the offer.”
Anna looked at the torn check.
Then she looked at Eleanor.
“Get out of my house.”
“You will regret this.”
“I regret every year I spent being afraid of you.”
Eleanor stepped closer.
“I warned you what would happen if you told anyone.”
Michael looked between them? Wait first person. I looked between them.
“What is she talking about?”
Anna closed her eyes.
Eleanor walked out without answering.
That evening, after we returned from the hospital, Anna disappeared into our bedroom.
I found her sitting on the cold floor of our closet, surrounded by old shoeboxes.
In her hands was a crumbling leather-bound diary and a small digital audio recorder.
Her face looked empty.
“I can’t keep this from you anymore,” she whispered. “My mother promised she would destroy us if I ever breathed a word of it. She told me it was better to let people think I was unfaithful than to let them know the truth.”
“The truth about what?”
She handed me the diary.
“About who I am.”
