Total pages in book: 157
Estimated words: 150968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 755(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 503(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 150968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 755(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 503(@300wpm)
My mouth falls open, and I simply stare back at him, aghast.
Why in the world am I sitting across from a judge? But wait, not just any judge. But someone from the goddamn Supreme Court. My jaw snaps close, and I clear my throat. If he notices my mind-boggling shock, Benjamin Hale doesn’t point to it. Instead, he motions toward the woman sitting next to him. “And this is my wife.”
“I’m Dr. Naveah Hale, Head of Neurosurgery at Solomon Hospital.”
Somehow, I’ve entered a twilight zone, and absolutely nothing makes sense.
“I don’t understand,” I mutter, my finger digging into the hole in my shirt. “I mean, why am I here?”
Judge Hale pushes the thick folder that he has in front of him toward me. “Go ahead,” he encourages. “You can go through it, and maybe you’ll understand why.”
I do just that, because he gives me the “no-nonsense” vibes. I’m not going to lie, but my bones are literally shaking when I open the folder. The first thing I see is a photo of my mother.
A younger version of her, anyway.
My heart thuds in my chest, and it feels like my lungs are about to collapse within the walls of my rib cage. As I sift through the folder, there are more photos of her. All of them are younger, happier…a healthier version of my mother.
I know it’s her. The face, the smile…the thick, fluffy hair that resembles Noami’s so much. I know it’s her, but it’s a woman I barely recognize.
This is not my mother.
The woman I remember is a drunkard, an addict — someone who never laughed, someone who loathed her children.
A woman who died alone while waiting for the man she loved — a callous, forsaken, cold-hearted and loveless woman. Someone cheap.
That’s the mother I remember, not the one in the photos. The one wearing expensive clothes, with a big house and flashy cars in the background. She is an impostor.
“Keep going,” Dr. Naveah coaxes gently. “We know this is all very confusing, but it’ll make sense once you see the rest and we’ll gladly answer any questions you have.”
The next polaroid photo I find is my mother holding a baby. “This is me,” I whisper under my breath, incredulously. I recognize myself as a baby, because my mother showed me a photo before. Of me, when I was barely a year old.
I find more photos of me in the folder. As a baby, a toddler and then a little older. Each photo looks like it has been kept with utmost care, without any wrinkles and preserved.
The last one in the folder is of me, on my sixth birthday, but after that, there are no more photos. The rest of the folder is empty.
I swallow past the lump in my throat and look up at the faces of Benjamin and Nevaeh Hale. “What does all of this mean? I don’t…understand. Who are you to me? How do you have these photos? What is your relationship with my mother?”
“Hadley, your mother, is — was, my younger sister. The only sibling I had. That makes me your uncle and Naveah, your aunt,” he says, ever so calmly. As if he hasn’t just turned my whole life upside down.
The world spins and tilts on its axis, before it rights itself. Cold sweat beads on my neck, and I stare at them blankly.
“We are your family,” Naveah adds softly, a hesitant note in her voice.
No, Naomi is the only family I have. The only family that matters.
“This can’t be true. If my m-mother is your sister then h-how—” I pause when I start stammering in confusion, licking my lips nervously. “None of this makes sense. My mother never mentioned any of you and if you are who you say you are… then where have you been all this time?”
Diane clears her throat and pushes to her feet. “How about I get us coffee while you guys talk about this? Would you like anything, Mr. and Mrs. Hale?”
Mrs. Hale smiles shakily. “Just a caramel latte for me, please.”
“Nothing for me.” Her husband frowns.
“I don’t want anything either.”
Diane lets out a little anxious laugh before she walks away, leaving me alone with the couple — who are quite possibly frauds. I can’t let myself believe a word they say.
Benjamin’s relentless gaze is nerve-wracking, and my fists clench on my lap. “Hadley was a brilliant young woman,” he starts, his voice is calm, but I notice a twitch under his left eye. As if speaking about my mother causes him some kind of pain. “She was one of the top students at Berkshire Academy, and she had a bright future ahead of herself. She got accepted to Harvard, for Life Science. Hadley dreamed of becoming a neurosurgeon, just like Naveah. This was literally her passion. She was quick-witted and extremely intelligent.”