I felt a sick feeling growing in my stomach. “Eliza, what are you on about?”
But she didn’t answer my question. Instead, she lifted her chin, her voice taking on a tone of finality. “This child is not just adopted. Evelyn is Norton’s biological daughter.”
The words hit me like a ton of bricks. I couldn’t process it all at once. My first thought was, that doesn’t make sense. But then the pieces began to fall into place, one by one. Of course it made sense. But why hadn’t Norton told me?
The words hung in the air, sharp and heavy. “Evelyn is Norton’s biological daughter.”
My mouth went dry as I tried to process what Eliza had just said. My mind raced, spinning in circles. I looked at Norton, waiting for him to say something — anything — but he remained motionless.
I felt a wave of confusion and disbelief wash over me. How was this possible? Evelyn had always been my daughter in every way that mattered. We had adopted her together. We had raised her together. I had loved her with every fiber of my being. So how could this be true? How could this child — the same one I had watched grow, laugh, and love — be his biological daughter?
I opened my mouth to speak, but the words caught in my throat. I couldn’t make sense of it.
Tara moved closer to me, her presence grounding, like the calm center in the middle of a storm. Her face was filled with concern, but her eyes held a quiet understanding — she knew something was wrong, but she also knew I needed to hear the rest.
Norton shifted Evelyn in his arms, the little girl laughing at the absurdity of the situation, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing around her. Her innocent joy was in stark contrast to the tension that now filled the room.
“I… I don’t understand,” I finally said, my voice breaking as I turned to look at Norton. “How… how could you keep this from me, Norton? All these years?”
Norton hesitated, his eyes flicking to his mother before settling on me. His face was pale, and the lines of exhaustion were etched deeply into his features. “I never meant to hurt you, Chanel,” he said, his voice barely a whisper.
Eliza folded her arms across her chest, her gaze cold and calculating. “You should have told her, Norton,” she said, her voice firm, but there was no warmth in her words. “You should have told her before you played house with her. Before you pretended this child was a miracle.”
I felt my anger flare. “Stop. Don’t you dare make it sound like I didn’t love her enough because of how she came to us. I didn’t love her out of obligation, Eliza. I loved her because she is mine — she is ours.”
