I’d forgotten about it.
Now I couldn’t.
“Anna knew?”
“She found out when she was 20.”
Eleanor explained that Anna had been raised by another family after the hospital records were altered.
Her biological father had convinced everyone that the newborn had died.
But Anna eventually discovered inconsistencies in her birth records.
She tracked down her biological mother.
Me.
Except by then, I had moved.
Changed my number.
Changed jobs.
And the address in the hospital records was outdated.
Anna spent years trying to find me.
Then, three months earlier, she found Michael.
I turned toward him.
“You knew.”
He nodded.
“Three months ago.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
“I wanted to.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No.”
“Why?”
His eyes filled with tears.
“Because Anna asked me not to.”
That answer made me even angrier.
“She was my daughter.”
“I know.”
“You had no right.”
“I know.”
“Why would she ask you to hide this from me?”
