“Where did you get that?” I asked, pointing at it. “I placed that cross in my newborn son’s blanket the day he was born.”
The doctor looked at me in surprise.
“Did they ever tell you what really happened to him?” he asked.
“They told me he was adopted,” I replied.
He pulled a chair beside my bed.
“I was that baby,” he said. “My father raised me.”
I struggled to sit up. “You mean Daniel? Your father is Daniel?”
He nodded, but his expression changed when I explained how I had been forced to sign the adoption papers. He told me that Daniel had raised him, believing I had willingly given him up.
“I searched for you for thirty-one years,” I said. “I never stopped loving you.”
Fabian seemed confused and hurt. He believed the signature on the papers proved that I had chosen to abandon him. I could see that my words were not enough to convince him.
