PART 5 — The Woman Who Took My Son From Me
Thomas’ father introduced himself as Hendrik De Wit.
I remembered him.
Twelve years ago, I had only seen him a few times.
Even back then, he was the kind of man who silenced everyone the moment he entered a room.
He had never liked me.
According to him, I was too poor.
Too young.
Too ordinary.
Now he looked at me as if I were a problem that finally needed to be solved.
“Lucas stays with his family,” he said.
“He is my son.”
“That still needs to be proven.”
I looked at the lawyer.
“Is there a DNA test?”
“It can be arranged.”
Hendrik smiled.
“Exactly.”
Lucas woke up.
“Why are you talking about me as if I’m not here?”
Everyone became silent.
Hendrik walked toward his bed.
“You need to rest, boy.”
“Who are you?”
“I’m your grandfather.”
Lucas looked at him.
“My father said I shouldn’t trust you.”
Hendrik’s expression changed.
Only for a second.
“Your father was sick.”
“He said you kept my mother away from me.”
The room became silent.
Hendrik looked at me.
“That is ridiculous.”
I stood up.
“Is it?”
Marianne stepped between us.
“Eva, enough.”
“You told me for twelve years that Thomas didn’t want me.”
“He didn’t.”
“He wrote that he wanted me back.”
Marianne said nothing.
“He wrote it down.”
I held up the letter.
“He tried to find me.”
“And he failed.”
“No.”
I looked directly at her.
“You stopped him.”
Lucas was listening.
“Why?”
Marianne looked at him.
“I protected you.”
Lucas shook his head.
“That’s what everyone says.”
He looked at me.
“But you came.”
I felt tears burning in my eyes.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because you are my child.”
He gave a weak smile.
Hendrik looked at Marianne.
“Take him away.”
The lawyer stepped forward.
“You cannot do that.”
Hendrik turned around.
“Excuse me?”
“Thomas left legal documents.”
“Documents can be challenged.”
“Of course.”
“And I will challenge them.”
“Then we will see each other in court.”
Hendrik walked out.
Marianne stayed behind.
She looked at Lucas.
“I protected you.”
Lucas answered:
“You lied to me.”
Then she left too.
Later that afternoon, a man came into the hospital.
He looked about fifty years old and wore a simple dark jacket.
He stood a few steps away.
“Are you Eva?”
“Yes.”
“My name is David.”
“Who are you?”
“I knew Thomas.”
“As a friend?”
“More than that.”
He took a photograph from his jacket pocket.
Thomas was in it.
Standing beside a young woman.
Between them was a baby.
Lucas.
On the back was a date.
The day after Lucas was born.
“Where did you get this?”
“Thomas gave it to me.”
“Why?”
“He wanted someone to preserve the truth.”
I looked at the picture.
“What truth?”
David glanced toward the hallway where Marianne had disappeared.
“That Lucas was never taken away from you willingly.”
“What do you mean?”
“Thomas discovered that your signature on the surrender document was not legally valid.”
My heart stopped.
“Why didn’t he do anything?”
“Because he was threatened.”
“By whom?”
David was silent.
“By whom?”
“By his father.”
I felt a cold shiver.
“Why?”
David looked at me seriously.
“Thomas discovered something about your family.”
“My family?”
“Your parents.”
I shook my head.
“My parents have nothing to do with this.”
David looked at me.
“That’s what Thomas thought too.”
He took out an old bank statement.
A transfer.
From Marianne.
To my mother.
Three days after Lucas was born.
I stared at the amount.
My hands began to shake.
“Why did my mother receive money?”
David answered:
“Because she knew who Lucas’ real father was.”
