My dad had an affair with my aunt and that sent my mom to the hospital – years later he asked me to raise their children, but my answer changed their lives.
——-
Snow was falling thickly on 5th Avenue, covering the cold glitter of Manhattan in a blanket of white. I stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows of my 40th-floor law office, sipping Scotch.
The phone on my desk rang. It was a public hospital in Queens.
“Miss Victoria Sterling? We’re calling from Mount Sinai Queens Hospital. Mr. Robert Sterling is in critical condition. He wants to see you one last time. He says… it has to do with the children.”
I looked at my reflection in the mirror: my perfectly tailored Armani suit, my piercing eyes, and the crooked smile that New York lawyers call “The Kiss of Death.”
“Tell him I’ll be there,” I replied, my voice as calm as if I were making a manicure appointment. “But not out of love. Because I’ve waited exactly 15 years for this day.”
Fifteen years ago, I was a naive 17-year-old girl living in a grand mansion in The Hamptons. My family was the epitome of perfection. My father, Robert, was a charming Wall Street investor. My mother, Eleanor, was a refined pianist with a soul as fragile as crystal.
And then there was Aunt Clara. My mother’s younger sister. The woman who always wore bright red dresses, wore strong perfume, and always looked at my father with wet eyes.
Tragedy did not strike like a storm, but it crept in like poison.
On my mother’s 40th birthday, I came home early to surprise her. But the surprise was mine. In the master bedroom, on my parents’ wedding bed, Robert and Clara were entangled.
My mother stood in the doorway. She did not scream. She just stood there, her arms hanging limply, the birthday cake falling to the floor and shattering.
The shock was too much for her fragile heart and sensitive spirit. Mom had a stroke on the spot, resulting in permanent brain damage and a catatonic state. She became a vegetable, imprisoned in her own body.
What did Robert do? He had no regrets. He put Mom in a remote private nursing home, took over the management of her assets (which she had previously given her trust in), and openly moved in with Aunt Clara after only a month.
I was kicked out of the house when I turned 18 for daring to sue him. “You’re just like your mother, weak and troublesome,” he said before throwing my suitcase out the door. Aunt Clara stood on the balcony, already pregnant, sneering at me.
I left with nothing and an oath etched into my bones: I would take it all back.
I walked into the hospital room. The strong smell of antiseptic could not hide the smell of death.
Robert lay there, thin, his skin yellow from end-stage liver failure. Alcohol and debauchery had drained the life force of the former “Wolf of Wall Street”. Aunt Clara had died two years ago of breast cancer, leaving him with two twins, a boy and a girl, now 14 years old.
The two children, Leo and Mia, were huddled in the corner of the room. They wore old clothes, their eyes were frightened. They were beautiful, a sinister beauty inherited from both their father and mother.
“Victoria…” Robert whispered when he saw me enter. “You’re here.”
I didn’t answer, just pulled up a chair, sat down cross-legged, and placed the Birkin bag on my lap. “You don’t have much time left, Robert. Get to the point.”
Robert coughed, tears leaking from the corners of his wrinkled eyes. “Dad… he’s leaving. Clara’s gone too. Dad has nothing left. The house in the Hamptons is foreclosed. The accounts are frozen.”
He gestured shakily toward the two children.
“Victoria, I’m sorry, but they’re your siblings. They’re your blood. Please… raise them. Don’t send them to an orphanage. Give them a good life. You’re rich, you’re successful. You’re their only hope.”
I looked at the two children. Leo held Mia’s hand tightly. They looked at me like I was their savior.
“You want me to raise the child of the woman who destroyed my family? The child of the man who put my mother in a mental hospital?” I asked, my voice soft but sharp as a scalpel.
“Forgive me, Victoria,” Robert pleaded, trying to take my hand, but I pulled back. “Your mother… she would want you to do the same. She was the kindest person.”
“Don’t you dare mention my mother with that filthy mouth of yours,” I stood up and walked to the window overlooking the shabby parking lot.
The air in the room was as tense as a string about to snap. The two children began to sob.
“Okay,” I turned back. “I’ll give you an answer.”
Robert’s eyes lit up with hope. “Thank you… I know you still have love…”
“Wait,” I held up my hand. “I have a condition. And my answer will depend on whether you accept this truth or not.”
I pulled a thick file from my bag and threw it on the hospital bed.
“Which bank do you think foreclosed on the house in the Hamptons? Who do you think bought your company when the stock hit rock bottom and fired you? Why do you think you couldn’t get a loan for Clara’s treatment?”
Robert opened the file with a trembling hand. His eyes rolled back.
All the papers are in the name of a trust: The Eleanor Trust.
“L
“Oh, you…” Robert stammered. “You did it all?”
“It wasn’t you,” I smiled, a cold smile. “It was Mom.”
TWIST:
“Your mom… your mom has cerebral palsy…” Robert panicked.
“That’s what you think,” I leaned down close to his face. “She woke up five years ago, Robert. She can’t walk, she can’t talk, but her mind is as sharp as a knife. She contacted you. You and I quietly rebuilt the empire from the secret inheritance you never knew about. We bought back your debts one by one. We let you and Clara live in the illusion of wealth while you were actually spending our money, at exorbitant interest rates, without your knowledge.”
“Clara died without the best treatment… because…”
“Because I blocked all your financial resources,” I confirmed coldly. “And now, it’s your turn.”
Robert looked at me as if he had seen a demon. His mouth opened but he couldn’t speak.
“About these two children,” I turned to look at Leo and Mia. “You asked me to raise them? Okay, I will.”
I walked in front of the two children, put my hands on their shoulders.
“I will adopt them. I’ll send them to the best schools, wear the best clothes, live in the Hamptons mansion they were born in.”
Robert breathed a sigh of relief, tears streaming down his face. “Thank you… thank you…”
“But,” I interrupted, my voice ringing like a courtroom gavel. “Here’s my answer, and it will change their lives forever: I’ll adopt them, on the condition that I erase every memory of you and Clara from their lives.”
“Wh… what do you mean?”
“I’ll change their last names to my mother’s maiden name—Vance. I’ll burn every picture of you and Clara. I’ll forbid them from mentioning your name. I’ll teach them that their real parents were scumbags who died in prison. I will raise them to be men of distinction who will serve the legacy of Eleanor Vance—the woman you destroyed.”
“I can’t…” Robert cried weakly. “They’re my children!”
“No, Robert,” I pulled two pieces of paper from the file. They were the parental renunciations he needed to sign so I could pay his final hospital bills. “If you don’t sign, I’ll leave you to die on the streets and send these two to the worst welfare system in New York tonight. You know how the public orphanage treats the pretty children.”
Robert looked at his two children. Leo and Mia looked at him, waiting. They didn’t understand the whole situation, but they knew that this “rich sister” was their only lifeline.
Robert’s hand shook as he held the pen. He looked at me with a look of utter hatred, but also of helplessness. He knew I wasn’t joking.
He signed.
The drop of black ink seemed to put an end to his life.
“Goodbye, Robert,” I snatched the paper, turned away. “Leo, Mia, follow me.”
The two children stood up, not daring to look back at their dying father on the bed. They followed me out of the hospital room, out of the smell of death.
When I reached the hallway, I dialed my mother.
“Mom, it’s done,” I said. “Robert has signed. The children are ours now.”
On the other end of the line, a hoarse, labored, but satisfied voice said, “Good, Victoria. Take them home. My home.”
I hung up and led the children out into the snow.
In the hospital room, Robert’s heart monitor began to beep its alarms. He died alone, in the agony of knowing that his blood would live on, but to worship his enemies.
It wasn’t salvation. It was total obliteration. I didn’t just raise his children. I took the souls of his family to make up for my mother’s.
And as the elevator doors closed, I saw Leo look up at me and ask, “Where are you going?”
I smiled, a real smile this time.
“Home. Where you’ll learn to be good people. Not like your father.”
