Chapter 3 - A Photograph Without a Name
Travis had always known he was adopted.
Margaret and David Cole never hid it from him. They told him that families were formed through promises, not only through blood.
David died when Travis was nineteen. Margaret survived another eleven years.
During her final week, she asked Travis to bring a small wooden box from the back of her closet.
Inside were newspaper clippings, a hospital bracelet, a silver baby spoon engraved with the letter T, and the old photograph.
The picture showed a young woman holding a newborn outside St. Catherine’s Medical Center.
“Is that my biological mother?” Travis asked.
Margaret nodded.
“Her name?”
“I was never told.”
“How did you get the photograph?”
“A nurse placed it inside your blanket.”
Travis waited for more, but Margaret began coughing.
When she recovered, fear had entered her eyes.
“You must understand something. Your adoption saved your life, but it was not handled properly.”
“What does that mean?”
“We were told your mother had died. Years later, I learned she was alive.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because a man came to our house when you were five. He said powerful people wanted the past to stay buried.”
Travis felt cold.
“What man?”
“He never gave his name.”
“Did he threaten you?”
“He said accidents happened to curious families.”
Margaret took his hand.
“Your father and I wanted to go to the police, but the adoption documents disappeared from the agency. The nurse who arranged everything vanished. We had nothing except the photograph.”
Travis looked at the young woman’s face.
A line of sunlight concealed her eyes, but the dark crescent mark beneath her shoulder was visible.
“Why did she give me away?”
“I do not believe she did.”
Margaret pointed to the back of the photograph.
A faded sentence had been written in blue ink.
Tell him I never let go.
Below the sentence were the initials E.H.
Travis searched for the initials for years.
He contacted hospitals, adoption agencies, private investigators, and genealogy groups. Every trail ended with missing files.
Eventually, he stopped searching.
Not because he no longer cared, but because the search was consuming every part of his life.
He carried the photograph in his wallet as a reminder that two women had shaped him. One had given him life. The other had spent hers keeping him safe.
Travis did not show the photograph to Eleanor during their first months together.
He had learned to protect the story from curious people. Reporters had already begun describing him as the ambitious architect who had captured the attention of one of America’s wealthiest women.
Some suggested he was seeking money.
Others called him Eleanor’s latest charitable project.
Sebastian encouraged the rumors.
During a dinner at Eleanor’s mansion, he raised his glass and smiled at Travis.
“You have done remarkably well for yourself.”
“I restore buildings.”
“And now you dine in them.”
Eleanor placed her glass down.
“Sebastian.”
“I meant it as a compliment.”
“No, you didn’t.”
Sebastian’s smile disappeared for half a second.
After dinner, Travis prepared to leave.
Eleanor followed him to the front steps.
“I am sorry.”
“You are not responsible for him.”
“He has managed my family’s legal affairs for fifteen years. Sometimes he forgets that does not make him family.”
Rain had begun falling.
Travis looked at her standing beneath the light from the doorway.
“Why do you keep him around?”
“My father trusted the Vale family. Sebastian’s father protected Hart Holdings during several investigations.”
“Protected it from what?”
Eleanor hesitated.
“My father had enemies.”
“Did he deserve them?”
A faint smile touched her lips.
“Probably.”
Before Travis entered his car, Eleanor spoke again.
“There is something peaceful about being with you.”
He looked back.
“That sounds dangerous.”
“It is.”
May you like
Their relationship changed that night.
They did not announce it. They simply stopped pretending their dinners were about the library.
