Seven Days Before My Wedding

Seven Days Before My Wedding - Chapter 10 — The Lie in the Photograph

Chapter 10 — The Lie in the Photograph

I stared at the photograph on the floor.

Our daughter.

Two words.

Two words that had shattered everything I thought I knew about my life.

Richard Black.

My father.

No.

It couldn't be true.

It simply couldn't.

I looked at my mother.

She was crying.

"Mom."

She couldn't meet my eyes.

"Tell me it's a lie."

She remained silent.

"Please."

Her lips trembled.

"I wanted to tell you."

"Tell me what?"

"The truth."

"The truth is that Richard Black is my father?"

She closed her eyes.

"Yes."

The room spun.

I grabbed the edge of the table.

Nathan stood completely still.

I looked at him.

He looked devastated.

Not because of the revelation itself.

Because of what it meant for us.

For the feelings we had never spoken aloud.

For the future neither of us had dared to imagine.

I stepped away from him.

"Don't come near me."

Nathan stopped.

"Emma..."

"Don't."

He lowered his eyes.

My grandmother watched us silently.

Then she said:

"The photograph is real."

I looked at her.

"But it doesn't tell the whole story."

My heart pounded.

"What else is there?"

She reached beneath the bed again.

This time she pulled out an envelope.

It was yellow with age.

There was a name written on it.

To Emma.

My hands trembled.

I opened it.

Inside was a letter.

My father's handwriting.

The man who had raised me.

The man I had called Dad.

I began reading.

Emma,

If you're reading this, then you've discovered the photograph.

Do not believe everything you see.

Richard is your biological father.

But he was never your father.

I was.

My vision blurred.

I continued.

A father is not simply the man whose blood runs through your veins.

A father is the man who stays.

The man who protects you.

The man who holds you when you're afraid.

I chose you long before you could choose me.

Never let Richard take that from you.

Tears filled my eyes.

I pressed the letter against my chest.

My father had known.

He had known everything.

I kept reading.

Your mother loved Richard once.

But she learned what he was capable of.

When she discovered she was pregnant, she left him.

She married me because she wanted to protect you.

I knew the truth.

And I chose to raise you as my daughter.

Richard never knew whether you were his.

Until years later.

I stopped.

"Until years later."

I looked at my mother.

"When did Richard find out?"

She whispered:

"When you were eight."

My blood ran cold.

The memory.

The house.

The voice.

The girl knows too much.

I suddenly understood.

"He found out here."

My mother nodded.

"Yes."

"And that's when everything started."

"Yes."

I looked at the letter again.

The final paragraph was written in darker ink.

Richard believed Emma was the key to something your mother had hidden.

He was wrong.

The real secret is not Emma.

It is what happened the night she was born.

My heart stopped.

"The night I was born?"

My grandmother nodded.

"That is where the story truly begins."