The Sky Remembered the Touch of Our Unfinished Goodbyes by Lysa Orion Rehn 115

Chapter 115 

Jonathan’s POV 

I could feel my heart hammering against my ribs as the small boy Oliver–barely reaching my waist–stared up at me with eyes far too perceptive for his age. Despite his diminutive stature, there was something deeply unsettling about his presence. The weight of his gaze made me want to take a step back, though I remained rooted to 

the spot. 

“You claim to be my mother’s adoptive father,” Oliver said, rolling the 

words around his mouth with deliberate precision. “Yet how can you 

call yourself a father when you never truly raised her?” 

My mouth went dry. In all my years navigating Chicago’s cutthroat 

design industry, I’d never felt as intimidated as I did by this six–year- 

old child. 

“Twenty–six years ago, during a heavy snowstorm,” I began, 

summoning the practiced story, “I found your mother abandoned, 

crying in the snow. I couldn’t bear to leave a baby there to freeze, so I 

took her home.” I attempted a wistful expression. “My wife and I 

weren’t heartless people. We took her in, raised her as our own…” 

“You’re lying!” 

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The accusation cut through my carefully constructed facade. I 

swallowed hard, doubling down. 

“There’s no reason for me to lie about this. If my wife and I hadn’t 

been passing by that road, your mother would have frozen to death, 

and you wouldn’t even exist-” 

“Is that so?” Oliver’s voice carried a coldness no child should possess. 

To my horror, he removed his leather backpack, unzipped it 

methodically, and pulled out a stack of documents, throwing them at 

me with surprising force. Papers scattered across the polished 

hardwood between us. 

“It seems your memory is failing you, Mr. Wright. You’ve conveniently 

forgotten why my mother spent over twenty years with your family. 

Forgetting doesn’t erase what happened!” 

I felt the blood drain from my face as I frantically gathered the 

papers. Cedar moved closer, kneeling beside her son. 

“What is all this?” she asked him softly. 

“Stand back, Mom. Today I’m going to tear off these people’s masks 

and show you who they really are.” 

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My fingers trembled as I scanned the documents. Papers nobody 

should have had access to. Documents that revealed a truth I’d buried 

decades ago. 

The papers slipped from my hands. Cedar’s eyes widened as she glimpsed their contents and began collecting them with growing 

urgency. 

“Twenty–six years ago, my mother was the most well–behaved and beautiful child at the orphanage,” Oliver continued, his voice trembling with righteous anger. “Many childless couples wanted to adopt her. When she was three months old, a kind teacher and his wife adopted her. They loved her dearly, but less than two weeks later, you and your wife forcibly took away their parental rights!” 

“That’s not how it happened-” I began, but my protest sounded 

hollow even to my own ears. 

Cedar’s hands tightened around the papers, her knuckles turning white. “You always said you saved my life, but that wasn’t true, was it? Even without you, I would have been raised in the orphanage or by that teacher couple. I was never going to die in the snow… was I?” 

The shame I’d suppressed for decades threatened to suffocate me. 

“A fortune teller told you the Wright family wouldn’t have a male heir 

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in this generation,” Oliver continued relentlessly. “To change this 

fate, you needed a baby girl with the right birth chart. So you targeted 

my mother and forced that teacher couple to give up their parental 

rights.” 

I couldn’t deny it. Twenty–six years ago, a fortune teller had indeed stopped me on Michigan Avenue with that prediction. I hadn’t believed it then–I wasn’t a superstitious man. But after years of marriage with no children, a series of coincidences led me back to 

that same fortune teller. 

What followed was indeed the shameful act the child described. 

“I investigated that teacher couple,” Oliver’s voice cut through my memories. “They later adopted another girl who grew up happily, learning piano and ballet. She’s now a successful artist. That could have been my mother’s life if you hadn’t stolen her away to be abused 

and tormented!” 

“Your so–called life–saving grace was a fabricated lie. Your claims of raising her with love are complete nonsense!” 

The boy’s rage was palpable. If looks could kill, I would have been 

riddled with holes. 

Cedar’s POV 

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I stared at the documents in my hands, my entire world shifting beneath my feet. A cold, bitter laugh escaped my lips as twenty–six 

years of lies unraveled before me. 

How had I never suspected? The story they’d told me about being abandoned in the snow had always seemed dramatic, theatrical even. 

But I’d believed it. 

I raised my eyes to Jonathan’s ashen face. “So the letter and necklace supposedly left by my birth parents–were those lies too?” 

“That part is actually true, Mom!” Oliver interjected. “I tracked down that teacher couple. They told me you were kidnapped as an infant. After the police rescued you, they couldn’t find your birth parents, so you were sent to the orphanage. The letter and necklace were stolen from your mother when you were taken.” 

I pressed my lips together until they hurt. For years, the Wrights had whispered in my ear that I was abandoned, unwanted. I’d grown up 

resenting parents I’d never met. 

But I hadn’t been abandoned–I’d been stolen. 

Twenty–six years ago, at just over two months old, I was kidnapped. My birth mother had lost her child. The pain she must have felt… 

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I didn’t need to imagine it. If someone took Oliver from me, I’d be devastated beyond repair. And I wasn’t even his biological mother. The thought of my actual mother, possibly still grieving her lost child after all these years, made my throat tighten with emotion. 

“Cedar, these things happened twenty–six years ago. Let’s not dwell on the past,” Jonathan attempted, his voice placating. “Whatever happened, we raised you. You’re a Wright. Our connection can’t be 

severed- 

“Stop talking!” I shouted, my vision blurred with tears of rage. “Half my life was destroyed by your family! Don’t tell me not to ‘dwell on it‘! Without you, I wouldn’t have grown up being abused. Without you, I wouldn’t be covered in scars. Without you, I might have had a normal, healthy sense of self–worth!” 

I glared at the man who had claimed to be my savior all these years. For the first time, I didn’t feel the need to bow my head or speak softly. The “debt of gratitude” that had kept me subservient for decades was nothing but a cruel manipulation. 

The Wrights owed me–not the other way around. 

Oliver reached into his backpack and pulled out a credit card, throwing it at Jonathan’s face with a sharp flick of his wrist. 

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“There’s $200,000 on this card,” he declared coldly. “That’s the exact amount you paid to buy my mother’s custody rights back then. I’m returning your money, and you will never bother her again. You have three days to hand over the keepsakes from her birth parents, or I’ll make sure the Wright family falls even further than they already 

have.”