Chapter 5 - THE BIRTH CERTIFICATE WITH TWO MOTHERS
I had spent twenty-five years believing I knew who my parents were.
Now Professor Ward was telling me my birth records might connect me to Victor Malenkov's dead wife.
I couldn't breathe.
“My mother was Margaret Bennett.”
Professor Ward nodded.
“She raised you.”
I stared.
“That's not what I asked.”
Her expression softened.
“No.”
I stepped backward.
“Was she my biological mother?”
Professor Ward hesitated.
“Grace, we need verified records before making any conclusion.”
I felt furious.
Not at her caution.
At the years of silence.
I remembered my mother's face.
Her hands guiding mine over a sewing machine.
The way she sang while folding laundry.
The way she stayed awake helping me study for exams.
If she'd adopted me, why hadn't she told me?
Then I remembered something else.
My birth certificate.
I'd used it for college enrollment.
For employment.
For everything.
It listed Margaret Bennett as my mother.
No father.
Nothing unusual.
But Professor Ward explained that amended certificates could sometimes replace original adoption records.
I felt sick.
The following morning, I met with Rebecca Collins, an attorney recommended through the hospital's social services office.
She reviewed the available information.
Then explained the legal steps required to request adoption and original birth records.
I nodded.
I wanted evidence.
Not guesses.
Not dramatic stories.
The truth.
Victor requested a meeting that afternoon.
I hesitated.
Then agreed.
We met at Rebecca's office.
When he entered, he looked exhausted.
His charcoal suit was immaculate.
But there were dark circles beneath his eyes.
He sat across from me.
For a long moment, neither spoke.
Then he looked toward my bandaged hand.
“How is it healing?”
I almost laughed.
“You're asking about my hand?”
His expression softened.
“I don't know what else to ask.”
For the first time, he looked less like a feared Mafia boss and more like a man who'd spent twelve years afraid of hope.
I swallowed.
“Do you think I'm your daughter?”
His eyes filled.
“I don't know.”
I nodded.
“Good.”
He looked surprised.
“Good?”
“Because I don't want you deciding who I am before we have proof.”
Victor slowly nodded.
“You're right.”
I studied him.
“Will you agree to genetic testing if it's appropriate and legally arranged?”
“Yes.”
His answer came immediately.
Then he added, “Whatever the result, I won't pressure you.”
My throat tightened.
I hadn't expected that.
Over the next several weeks, authorized records were reviewed.
A lawful parentage test was arranged.
I barely slept.
Victor didn't call constantly.
Didn't send flowers.
Didn't try to buy my attention.
He gave me space.
And somehow, that made the waiting harder.
Then Rebecca called.
“Grace, the results are ready.”
My knees weakened.
I sat down.
“Tell me.”
A pause.
Then she answered.
“Victor Malenkov is your biological father.”
I stopped breathing.
Twenty-five years.
A dead wife.
A hidden birth.
A mother who raised me.
And a father who never knew I existed.
Tears streamed down my face.
Then Rebecca added something unexpected.
“Grace, there's another issue in the original records.”
My heart tightened.
“What?”
“The documents indicate Elena believed you had died shortly after birth.”
May you like
I covered my mouth.
Then Rebecca whispered, “Someone told both your biological parents their baby was dead.”
