He continued, “But when I saw Evelyn, I noticed a small crescent-shaped birthmark behind her ear. The men in my family have the same mark. My grandfather had it. I have it.” His voice broke. “I had a terrible feeling.”
I could barely breathe.
“After we brought her home,” he said, “I did a DNA test. Quietly. I told myself I was imagining things, but I wasn’t. The results came back positive.”
I looked down at Evelyn. She was humming to herself, looping ribbon around her fingers, completely unaware that the ground under my life had just split apart.
“You knew,” I whispered. “All this time.”
“Yes.”
“And you said nothing.”
His eyes filled. “I was going to tell you. I tried so many times. But every time I pictured it, I thought you’d look at her differently. Or at me. I thought you’d believe our whole marriage was built on a lie.”
“It was a lie.”
“No,” he said quickly, painfully. “The secret was a lie. Not my love for you. Not our family. I didn’t know she existed before we adopted her. I swear to you, on everything I have, I did not know.”
Eliza crossed her arms. “You should have told her the second you found out.”
“I know that,” he said.
Then I understood something else and turned sharply to Eliza. “You knew too?”
Her chin lifted. “He came to me in shock. I told him this child would bring trouble.”
I stared at her. “That’s why you rejected Evelyn.”
Eliza’s silence was answer enough.
