“My grandmother told me to ask why your father searched for my mother.”
“I don’t know.”
“Then maybe the answer is waiting in that storage room.”
He nodded once.
The decision settled between us.
Not trust.
Not yet.
But something close to an alliance.
I returned to the wooden box, searching for anything else connected to Mercy House.
At the very bottom lay a sealed plastic sleeve.
Inside was a birth certificate.
I assumed it was mine until I saw the name.
Anthony James Russo.
Anthony took it from me.
The listed place of birth was not a Manhattan hospital.
It was Mercy House.
The mother’s name was Maria Russo.
The father’s line was blank.
Anthony stared at it for a long time.
“My father’s name was Vincent.”
I said nothing.
A second document had been folded behind the birth certificate.
It was a handwritten medical intake form.
Patient: Maria Russo.
Condition: premature labor.
Emergency contact: Evelyn Carter.
At the bottom, beneath several lines of faded notes, my grandmother had written:
Infant delivered safely at 2:14 a.m.
Mother requested that paternity remain confidential.
I looked at Anthony.
His face had gone completely still.
Then the landline telephone rang.
I jumped.
No one called that phone except debt collectors and telemarketers. Most people did not even know it worked.
Anthony motioned for me not to answer.
It rang again.
And again.
On the fourth ring, the answering machine clicked on.
My grandmother’s recorded voice filled the apartment.
“Hello, you’ve reached Evelyn and Sophie. We can’t come to the phone—”
A man interrupted the recording.
“Sophie, I know Anthony Russo is with you.”
Anthony and I looked at each other.
The caller’s voice was calm, older, and unfamiliar.
“Do not take him to the storage room tomorrow.”
Anthony stepped toward the phone and lifted the receiver.
“Who is this?”
There was a pause.
Then the man said, “Ask Maria who held her hand while your father waited outside Mercy House.”
Anthony’s expression changed.
“Who are you?”
The caller ignored him.
“Sophie, your mother is alive.”
The line went silent for half a second.
My heart stopped.
Then the man added, “And she has spent the last twenty-two years protecting Anthony from the truth of who his father really was.”
The call ended.
END OF PART 2 – LIKE, SHARE AND COMMENT “THE ENTIRE STORY” IF YOU WANT TO READ THE FULL STORY.
