Chapter 4 - CHRISTMAS AT MY MOTHER'S HOUSE
My mother opened the door wearing pearls.
That detail made me angrier than it should have.
Everything about Wendy Sterling looked normal.
Christmas wreath.
Cashmere sweater.
Candles burning behind her.
As if she had not stolen seven years from three people.
“Merry Christmas, darling.”
“Is Dad here?”
Her smile faded.
“Ivan?”
“Is he here?”
Arthur appeared behind her.
“What’s wrong?”
I held up Jessi’s returned letter.
My mother went completely still.
Dad looked at it.
Then at her.
“Where did you get that?”
That question answered enough.
“You knew.”
Wendy stepped back.
“I can explain.”
“Good.”
I walked inside.
“Explain why you told my pregnant wife I wanted nothing to do with my child.”
“You were divorcing.”
“That wasn’t your decision.”
“She cheated on you.”
“No.”
Mom laughed bitterly.
“You saw the photographs.”
“I saw photographs.”
“Same thing.”
“No, it isn’t.”
I placed the forged letter on the table.
“Did you write this?”
She glanced down.
“I don’t know what that is.”
Dad closed his eyes.
“Wendy.”
She snapped toward him.
“Don’t.”
I looked at Dad.
“You signed for the certified paternity notice.”
His shoulders dropped.
“Yes.”
The word hit harder than denial.
“What did you do with it?”
“I gave it to your mother.”
“And then?”
“Ivan…”
“What happened?”
Dad looked ashamed.
“I let her handle it.”
I stared at him.
“My son was born while I was deployed, and you let her handle it?”
“I thought the marriage was over.”
“So fatherhood was over too?”
“No.”
“But you did nothing.”
He had no answer.
Wendy folded her arms.
“I was protecting your future.”
“My future?”
“You were twenty-nine, finally advancing, finally away from that toxic marriage.”
“My son was not toxic.”
Her face changed.
“That child would have tied you to Jessi forever.”
“That child has a name.”
Silence.
“Leo.”
Mom looked away.
Then Dad said quietly:
“Ivan, this wasn’t only about Jessi.”
Wendy turned.
“Arthur.”
“No.”
Dad finally looked at her the way I wished he had seven years earlier.
“He deserves to know.”
“Know what?”
Dad walked toward his study.
He returned with an old trust binder.
Sterling Family Trust.
I had heard of it but never cared much.
My grandfather built a regional manufacturing company and left family investments behind.
Dad opened one section.
“If you had a biological child, these provisions activated.”
“What provisions?”
“Your grandfather created a generational transfer.”
I read the page.
Upon birth of Ivan Sterling’s first lawful descendant, management authority over designated family assets shall transfer from interim trustee to Ivan Sterling for benefit of descendant.
Interim trustee:
Wendy Sterling.
My mother.
The room went cold.
“How much?”
Dad answered.
“About eleven million when Leo was born.”
Wendy whispered:
“It wasn’t about the money.”
Dad looked at her.
“No.”
May you like
Then he looked at me.
“It was about control.”
