I Adopted a Girl with Eyes Like My Late Husband’s – a Year Later, I Found a Photo in Her Bag That Made My Blood Run Cold

The results came back about a week later.

I opened the envelope with shaking hands.

Paternal match confirmed. Probability: 99.9%.

Dylan was Diane’s biological father.

I sat at the kitchen table and cried. Not just because Dylan had lied. But because Diane had known the whole time. She’d been living in my house, looking at Dylan’s photos on the walls, and pretending she didn’t know him.

Dylan had lied.

I grabbed my keys and drove to Eleanor’s house.

Eleanor opened the door and froze when she saw my face.

“You knew, didn’t you?” I asked.

“Knew what?”

“Don’t pretend. I know the truth… about Diane. And Dylan.” I held up the photo and the note. “How could you?”

She stepped aside. “Come in.”

“Don’t pretend. I know the truth.”

I followed Eleanor into the living room. She sat down heavily.

“How long have you known?” I demanded.

“Since the day she was born.”

“Explain. Now.”

Eleanor took a shaky breath. “Around 13 years ago, Dylan had an affair with an old high school classmate. She got pregnant. He told me everything.”

“Explain. Now.”

My heart raced. “Was he planning to leave me?”

“No. He loved you. But he also wanted to be a father. He was torn and terrified, Claire. He didn’t know what to do.”

“So WHAT did he do?”

“Dylan supported her financially. Visited when he could. But the woman raised Diane on her own.”

“And then?”

“Dylan supported her financially.”

“She died in a car crash when Diane was three. Dylan wanted to bring Diane home. He wanted to tell you the truth and raise her.”

Tears streamed down my face.

“But I convinced him it would destroy your marriage. That you’d never forgive him. So I offered to take Diane temporarily while he figured things out.”

“And?”

“She died in a car crash when Diane was three.”

Eleanor’s voice cracked. “I gave her up for adoption. Through a friend at an agency. I told Dylan she’d gone to a good family. That it was better this way.”

“You lied to your own son?”

“I was protecting him! Protecting you!”

“You were protecting yourself. You didn’t want the scandal.”

Eleanor looked away. “Dylan found out the truth six months before he died. He was furious. He tried to find Diane, but the records were sealed. He stopped speaking to me.”

“I told Dylan she’d gone to a good family.”

I remembered the distance between Dylan and Eleanor in those last months. I’d thought it was just stress.

“When I told you I was adopting Diane, you knew who she was.”

“Yes.”

“And you tried to stop me.”

“Because I thought if you adopted her, the truth would come out. And it has.”

“You met with Diane before the adoption,” I urged. “You gave her that photo and that note.”

I remembered the distance between Dylan and Eleanor.

Eleanor nodded. “I told her the truth. But she didn’t believe me at first.”

“So you gave her proof.”

“Yes. And I told her if she ever revealed who Dylan was, she’d ruin his memory. That she’d break your heart. That no one else would adopt her if you sent her back.”

“You threatened a 12-year-old child.”

“I was trying to protect you!”

“You threatened a 12-year-old child.”

“You were trying to protect yourself,” I snapped, standing up. “You manipulated everyone. Dylan. Diane. Me.”

“Claire, please…”

“Get out of my life, Eleanor. Don’t call me. Don’t come to my house. We’re done.”

I walked out and slammed the door behind me.

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