“We’re still investigating.”
“Who received this?”
He hesitated.
“We believe it’s connected to someone named Mark.”
My heart stopped.
“Mark?”
“Yes.”
My mother’s first husband.
My biological father.
The man she had told me had abandoned us when I was four.
The man whose name had almost never been spoken in our house.
I couldn’t breathe.
“That’s impossible.”
“Julia, there’s more.”
My attorney sent another document.
It was an old court filing.
I opened it.
And everything I thought I knew about my childhood began to collapse.
My biological father had not abandoned us.
He had not disappeared.
He had been paying child support.
He had been sending letters.
He had requested visitation.
And there were records showing that my mother had repeatedly blocked contact.
I stared at the screen.
“No.”
My voice barely came out.
“No, no, no.”
My attorney continued carefully.
“There’s evidence he tried to contact you for years.”
