Chapter 12 - My Mother Tried to Make the Whole City Hate Me
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The first newspaper story appeared on a Monday morning.
Its headline accused me of tearing apart my family over an adoption dispute.
By lunchtime, local gossip pages were repeating claims that my daughter had been spoiled and that my parents were being unfairly punished for trying to teach her discipline.
The stories relied on unnamed family sources.
But I knew my mother's language.
Family values.
Respect for elders.
Traditional responsibility.
Carmen had spent decades shaping her image as an elegant philanthropist.
She hosted charity luncheons.
Donated to hospitals.
Posed beside children at holiday events.
Now she was using that reputation to defend what she'd done to Renee.
One article claimed I'd forbidden my parents from seeing their grandchildren.
Another described Renee as a child I'd adopted impulsively.
I wanted to call every reporter in Chicago.
Instead, Charlotte advised me to protect Renee's privacy.
“Michael, your daughter isn't a public-relations project.”
She was right.
I could defend myself without turning a six-year-old's childhood into entertainment.
So my office released a short statement.
Renee was my daughter.
Her privacy would be respected.
Financial matters involving the relief trust were undergoing independent review.
I would not discuss protected adoption records publicly.
Carmen responded that evening.
She gave a television interview from the mansion's enormous drawing room.
I watched from my office.
“Michael has always had a generous heart,” she said tearfully. “Sometimes that generosity makes him vulnerable to manipulation.”
The interviewer nodded sympathetically.
Carmen continued.
“We love our son. We simply hope he remembers who his family is.”
I turned off the television.
Gabriel stood beside the door.
“Do you want us to respond?”
“No.”
He seemed surprised.
“Boss?”
“I won't use Renee to win an argument.”
That evening, Rosa told me my daughter had heard something at school.
A classmate had repeated a rumor that Renee wasn't a real DeLuca.
When I entered her bedroom, she was sitting beside the window holding Button.
“Daddy?”
I sat on the carpet.
“Yes, princess?”
“Can people stop being adopted?”
My chest tightened.
“What do you mean?”
“If Grandma doesn't want me, can she make me not be your daughter?”
I moved closer.
“No.”
“Even if she has a lawyer?”
I swallowed.
“Adults can ask courts questions, but nobody gets to erase our family just by saying cruel things. We'll make sure you have people helping us.”
She studied me.
“Would you still love me if another lady was my mommy first?”
I felt tears gather.
“Renee, loving you isn't a contest. You can have people in your story from before we met, and it won't take away what we have.”
She leaned against me.
“Okay.”
After she fell asleep, I remained beside her bed for a long time.
Then my phone rang.
Charlotte.
“Michael, we have confirmation that the petition relied on statements attributed to a maternal relative.”
I frowned.
“Which relative?”
“That's the problem. The person identified in the filing appears to have died several years ago.”
I closed my eyes.
May you like
Someone had used the name of a dead woman to interfere with my daughter's adoption.
And that meant my parents' public campaign was only one part of a much larger effort.
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