Chapter 161 CHAPTER 161
Blood Never Lies
The letter sat on the desk in front of him, aged paper, browned at the edges, sealed with the old family crest of the Devereuxs. It had been hidden inside one of his late mother’s jewelry boxes, beneath the false bottom he hadn’t known existed until earlier that afternoon.
He’d been searching for his mother’s pearls. He found the truth instead.
Richard’s hand trembled as he broke the seal. The ink inside was faded, the handwriting painfully familiar, his mother’s elegant loops and steady curves.
(My dearest child,
If you are reading this, it means time has done what I feared most, it has taken my voice before I could tell you the truth.
You once had a sister.
She was taken from me when you were only a boy, stolen the night our home burned. The fire was no accident. I was told she died in it. But she didn’t. Someone took her…your father’s brother, Monroe.
Her name was Tessa. I found out but couldn’t fight him, your father was already dead from the fire.)
Richard froze. His breath caught in his chest. He reread the name over and over, as if repetition would make it less impossible.
He stood abruptly, the chair scraping across the floor. “No…” he whispered. “That can’t be…Tessa Monroe? Maybe another one.”
He stumbled to the liquor cabinet, pouring himself a drink with shaking hands. The amber liquid sloshed over the rim of the glass, but he didn’t care. He drank it in one long swallow, the burn grounding him.
“Tessa…” he murmured. “All this time…”
He picked up the letter again, flipping to the back. There was more writing, his mother’s desperate final lines.
(If ever you wish to confirm what I’ve written, seek out Dr. Hawthorne. He was the attending physician when Tessa was born. He owed me a debt. He will know the truth.)
Richard slammed the glass down, grabbed his coat, and left the house.
The rain came harder as he drove through the sleeping city, his headlights cutting through the dark. He found the address easily, it was on the back of the letter, in his mother’s handwriting. A small, run-down clinic on the edge of town.
When he stepped inside, the air smelled of disinfectant and old paper.
An elderly man looked up from behind the desk, startled. “Can I help you?”
“Dr. Hawthorne?” Richard’s voice was low, urgent.
“Yes, that’s me.”
“I’m Richard Devereux,” he said quickly. “You worked for my mother, Helena Devereux.”
At the sound of her name, the doctor froze. He slowly rose from his chair. “Helena…” he murmured. “My God. I haven’t heard that name in years.”
“I found a letter,” Richard said, placing it on the table. “She said you’d know the truth about her daughter. About Tessa.”
Dr. Hawthorne’s expression shifted from confusion to guilt. He sank back into his chair, exhaling heavily. “So… you finally found out.”
Richard leaned forward. “Tell me everything.”
The old man hesitated, rubbing his temples. “Your mother was a good woman,” he said quietly. “She trusted the wrong people. When the fire happened, she was supposed to lose both children. You and the baby. But someone intervened.”
Richard frowned. “Who?”
Hawthorne looked up, his eyes weary. “Your father’s brother sent someone.”
Richard blinked. “My father’s brother?”
“He owed money, deeply. To your Uncle. A debt that could only be erased with something of equal value.” The doctor’s voice dropped. “They took the baby. They made him believe she’d die if he ever spoke.”
Richard’s stomach turned. “You mean… he sold her?”
“He convinced himself he was saving her,” Hawthorne said softly. “But he knew she’d be raised under your uncle’s name. I was told to falsify the death records. I did it because I was threatened. I regretted it every day since.”
Richard’s hands clenched into fists. “And that baby… that was Tessa, the Tessa Langford now?”
“Yes.”
The word hit him like a gunshot.
Dr. Hawthorne continued, “Your Uncle was your mother’s ex lover. But he didn’t see eye to eye with your late father because of their love interest.”
Richard’s throat tightened. He felt dizzy, sick. “Where is my Uncle?”
“Died and left Tessa to fend for herself when she got into nursing school.”
Richard swallowed hard, blinking fast. The room blurred for a second. He didn’t know if he wanted to scream, cry, or collapse.
“So all this time,” he said hoarsely, “she was my sister…why didn’t he steal me as well? Why take her?”
“He suspected she was his. Your mother had an affair with him.”
Richard looked around in frustration.
He drove aimlessly for almost an hour before parking at a cliffside overlooking the city. The rain hadn’t stopped, it drenched him as soon as he stepped out of the car, but he didn’t care. He stood there, breathing hard, staring into the fog. His mind kept replaying eve
Now it made sense. The universe had been trying to tell him, but he’d been too blind to see.
He sat on the hood of the car, running his hand through his wet hair. “Tessa,” he whispered. “My sister.”
His heart broke and healed at once.
He thought about telling her, but how? How do you tell someone their entire life was built on a lie? How do you tell them they were stolen, sold, and raised in the shadow of deceit?
He leaned back, closing his eyes.