My Maternity Records Belong to Another Woman novel Chapter 68

Chapter 28

“And one more thing, Charles–you really are pathetic.”

Charles lay limp on the hospital bed, as if a boulder had rolled over his chest. The impact seemed to echo through his ribs–dull, suffocating. His heart felt pulverized, and black spots blurred his vision.

He rasped, “Mr. Chambers… why did Vivian leave?”

“She’s not supposed to be like this… she wasn’t like this before…”

Vivian Bennett, who once teared up just seeing a paper cut on his finger;

Who would gently blow on the wound and bandage it like she was cradling her own heart:

Back then, every ounce of her gentleness belonged to him and him alone.

But now, even as he lay broken before her,

She called him pathetic.

His voice cracked.

“Did I… really lose her?”

Mr. Chambers was silent for a moment before quietly answering:

“Some losses, sir… never come back.”

One month later, Diana Schuyler’s trial began.

With overwhelming evidence and public outrage, the verdict came quickly: the death penalty.

The moment the judge’s gavel struck, Vivian crumpled into her godmother’s embrace, sobbing so hard it

shook her frame.

She held up a photo of her parents and wept,

“Dad… Mom… can you see this?

The sky over Ridgewood is finally clear again.

Your daughter has avenged you.

Outside the courthouse, a wheelchair blocked her path.

Charles Foster sat in it.

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After days without seeing him, Vivian was startled by how haggard he’d become.

He looked hollow, gaunt–like a man decades older.

His sunken eyes still held a trace of that familiar affection.

His voice was hoarse and low. “Vivian… will you take me to see your parents?”

She glanced sideways, catching the concerned gazes of her godmother and Northon Shea.

She gave them a small nod, signaling reassurance.

“Alright.”

The tombstone stood on a grassy slope halfway up the hill.

From there, one could see the tranquil valley that had been her parents‘ favorite view.

The mountain breeze lifted Vivian’s hair.

And in that moment, she imagined her mother caressing her cheek, her father gently drying her hair like he

used to.

She knelt down,

Lit the sentencing document, and watched it burn before the grave.

She spun around. Charles wasn’t in his chair.

Charles had gotten out of the wheelchair.

He was kneeling. He gripped the armrests, lowering himself to the ground.

Vivian frowned. “What are you doing?”

His eyes were rimmed red, but he didn’t answer her.

He just stared at the smiling faces on the headstone–faces full of warmth and grace.

His voice trembled violently.

“Dad and Mom… I’m sorry.”

“I owed you and Vivian an apology… from the very beginning.”

Vivian looked up at the sky, forcing back the tears pooling in her eyes.

“They don’t need it. Diana’s execution–that was the only apology that ever counted.”

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Charles turned his gaze toward her.

His lashes trembled as he asked quietly, “Vivian… is there still a chance for us?”

“No.”

Her reply landed like a door slamming shut–firm, final.

Silence followed.

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