Then, that same year, it was all taken away from her. Not all—she still had Nathaniel. He taught her how the world worked and showed her that she was loved. Those were gifts she’d never had from her own family. When Nathaniel presented her with the deed to her father’s car dealership, it was the greatest gift—the most anyone had ever done for her. He showed her that his love was limitless; he’d do anything to make her happy. Catherine felt the same way. There were no lengths she wouldn’t go to for Nathaniel—even today. Catherine would never allow a Nichols to live in Nathaniel’s home and produce a child. It didn’t matter that Nathaniel’s home was in New Jersey. The estate where she sat was a worthy facsimile. Catherine was truthful when she encouraged Anton’s construction of the estate and told him how proud Nathaniel would be—he wouldn’t have been disappointed.
As the tips of Catherine’s fingers ran across the top of the private files in the desk drawer, she contemplated the one thing she hadn’t done for Nathaniel. Now that she truly was where he wanted her to be, Catherine Marie owed it to him to do what he wanted. He’d wanted her to contact her daughter. He wanted Marie to raise the girl—but that ship had already sailed.
She eyed the scribed names. There were so many. How could she figure out which one was her daughter? Catherine saw her own name. Maybe there was a clue in her file. When she opened it, she feared her heart would stop pumping. The writing wasn’t Anton’s. Catherine knew his writing well enough to duplicate it, with ease. This writing was Nathaniel’s.
Scribbled in the margin of a contract was the name Sophia Rossi. Catherine went through the drawer again. The only Sophia was Sophia Burke. Suddenly, she no longer remembered her husband’s love—she remembered his vendetta. Burke? Burke? There was no way her daughter could be connected to Jonathon Burke.
Catherine removed the Sophia Burke file and opened the folder. Above the typed name, Sophia Rossi, was the scribbled name Sophia Rossi Burke...Catherine searched the pages. There was a plethora of outdated information; nonetheless, written above the text on the second page was a telephone number. Catherine couldn’t resist; she used the blocked house phone.
Derek answered his wife’s cell phone. The past few weeks had been too much, and Sophia wasn’t up for solicitors or blocked numbers. “Hello?”
Initially, there was silence. Derek was about to hang up when he heard a voice. “I’m sorry; I’m looking for the beautiful baby girl I was forced to give away thirty-three years ago.”
Derek listened. He remembered that after Sophia’s parents’ funeral, she said she didn’t want to know her birth parents, yet this moment in time may be their only chance to learn the truth. “I’m sorry; my wife is indisposed right now. She’s had a difficult few weeks.”
“Yes, that’s the reason I’m calling. I never wanted to interfere with her and her adoptive parents, but now—”
Derek interjected, “Tell me the date you gave birth.”
Sophia’s eyes widened as she heard her husband’s question.
“July 19, 1980.”
Derek turned to Sophia. Her beautiful gray eyes, which had finally stopped crying over her parents, were now moist once again.
“What did she say?” Sophia whispered.
With his hand over the phone, Derek nodded. “She said your birth date. I think it might be your mother.”
“My mother died in a car accident.” Sophia straightened her neck and took the phone. “Please, don’t call again. My parents are dead. I don’t know you.”
The woman on the other end of the line spoke, “I’m sorry, I won’t call you again.”
Derek watched his wife’s countenance melt. He knew it was the first time Sophia had heard her birth mother’s voice, and he couldn’t imagine the questions that were rapidly firing through her beautiful head. Why did she give her up? Has she ever regretted her decision? What kind of person was she? What did she look like? Did they look alike?
Sophia swallowed the tears threatening her speech and said, “Wait—if you could give me your number, I’ll think about it. Then—when I’m ready—I can call you.”
The woman exhaled and replied, “Yes, of course.”
Sophia’s strength was spent. It broke Derek’s heart to see her fighting this new upheaval of emotion. Wrapping her in his arms, he took the phone from her hand. His voice was neither welcoming nor rejecting, “You may give me the number. When my wife is ready—if she’s ready—she will call you. Please, do not call her phone again.”
The woman hesitated only a second and then rattled off ten numbers. Derek repeated the numbers. Not offering a closing salutation, he disconnected the line. His concern wasn’t the woman on the phone; it was the distraught woman in his arms.
Catherine grinned. She’d done what Nathaniel had wanted her to do—she’d contacted her daughter. From the information in the file, Catherine could tell that Anton had been watching Sophia. She wondered what, if anything, he’d done for her. Catherine needed more information.