My Husband Mocked My Children at a Charity Evening, but the Smile Disappeared from His Face When the Lawyer Appeared

That night my husband mocked our eight-year-old twins in front of their eyes and allowed his mistress to compare their clothes to old curtains.

The Christmas hall of the grand-view hotel gleamed in gold. Crystal lamps hanging from the ceiling shone so brightly that the golden stars embroidered on my children’s hand-sewn green velvet outfits could be seen even from afar. I had been sewing these clothes for three weeks. Every night, after finishing my shift at the library, I sat at the small kitchen table and with the tip of a needle created for the children a world where they would feel like the king’s children.

“Did their mother sew these from old curtains?” Britney’s sharp voice rang out.

The glass nearly slipped from my hand. Britney was twenty-four years old, wearing a red sequined dress, and she had such a large stone on her finger that it seemed as if the entire hotel belonged to her.

Isaiah and Zara stood at the dessert table. The boy was biting his lower lip, while Zara stood in front of her brother, as if she were trying to protect him with her small body.

“Dad, are we dressed badly?” Isaiah asked quietly.

At that moment I ran toward them, but Trevor was faster. I thought he would protect the children. I had stood beside him for ten years. During my pregnancy I worked two jobs so he could start his business. Once I even gave up my last paycheck so he could buy the tools needed for a client.

He was supposed to stand beside me.

But he laughed.

“The children grow every few months, Brit,” he said to the partners gathered around. “There is no point throwing money into expensive clothes. Naomi loves her handicrafts. She has to entertain herself with something between shifts at the library.”

Several men raised their glasses. Someone chuckled.

I fell to my knees and embraced my crying children.

“No, my loves,” I told them, although pain was choking me in the throat. “You look wonderful.”

The sharp smell of Britney’s vanilla came closer.

“Oh, Naomi, you were here? I didn’t see you in the dark. If you ever need fashion advice, I’ll introduce you to my tailor. Though with a librarian’s salary, you could probably only afford to stand at his door.”

“Enough, Britney,” someone said.

An old, silver-haired man stood behind her. He wore a dark suit and held a silver-headed cane in his left hand. The color had drained from Britney’s face, but the man merely looked at her with contempt and immediately disappeared into the crowd.

Trevor hissed through his teeth:

“Get up. Don’t make scenes in front of everyone.”

“We’re leaving,” I said.

“Go. Use the subway. My clients are waiting for me.”

Until we reached the apartment, the children cried silently. At home I wiped their wet cheeks and put them in the shared bed.

“Mom, does Dad hate us?” Zara asked in a whisper.

That question shattered the last thing remaining inside me.

It was midnight when I locked myself in the bathroom. In the mirror I saw a thirty-four-year-old woman who had a face, but no life could be seen anymore. I pulled three black bags out from under the sink and began packing the children’s things. I had two hundred and fourteen dollars in my bank account. I did not know where we would sleep tomorrow.

But I knew that I would no longer teach my children to mistake cruelty for love.

The clock was striking twelve when the cheap phone lying on the table rang loudly. The number was from the financial district.

“Am I speaking with Naomi Harrison?” a stern man asked.

“I am Naomi Anderson. Who are you?”

“Grigol Patterson, senior partner at the law firm Patterson and Burke. I am calling regarding your biological father, Robert Harrison.”

My breath caught.

“You are mistaken. My father abandoned my mother and me when I was five years old. I did not want to hear that name for thirty years.”

“Mrs. Harrison, you are exactly the person I am looking for. Your father died in Switzerland two weeks ago.”

“That has nothing to do with me.”

“He spent thirty years in the shadows because he was fulfilling one promise. But he never took his eyes off you. What he left behind will completely change the direction of your life. Come to my office at nine in the morning. And do not be late.”

The call ended. I stood in the middle of the room, between the hand-sewn clothes and garbage bags. Just then someone knocked on the door three times. A key turned in the lock, and the corner of a silver folder appeared beneath the door. A man’s voice came from outside:

“Mrs. Harrison, before you open this folder, you should know that your husband is already…”

I reached toward the folder…

I touched the folder, but the man standing behind the door suddenly added:

“…already trying to prevent you from getting there in the morning.”

I opened the door. A young woman stood on the threshold, holding a small wooden box.

“I am Elena, Mr. Patterson’s assistant. This must be delivered to you personally.”

“Why didn’t he come himself?”

“Because two men are watching your apartment.”

I went to the window. A black car stood across the street. The streetlamp was reflected on its windshield, but I could not make out the face of the person sitting inside.

Elena handed me the box. Inside lay a small copper key and a folded paper. Only one sentence was written on the paper: “Do not trust the person who says that none of this was done for you.”

“Is it your father’s handwriting?” I asked.

“Yes.”

That night I put the children to sleep in my room. I kept the key under my pillow, but sleep still would not come.

In the morning I went to Patterson’s office. The clock hanging on the wall was three minutes short of nine. The lawyer locked the door and told me:

“Trevor came here earlier. He signed a statement saying that you are psychologically unstable.”

“Does he want to take my children?”

“That is not his only goal.”

He placed a black folder on the table. The children’s names were written on the outside.

“Look at this first,” he said. “Then you will understand why your husband wanted you not to come here today.”

The folder’s clasp opened, and on the very first page I saw my old surname…

My old surname was written on the very first page, and below it was my mother’s signature. My hands went cold.

“What is this?” I asked.

Patterson checked the door again and sat down in front of me.

“The original of your birth certificate. Your mother changed the surname and the city so your father would not be able to find you.”

“But he said that my father abandoned us.”

“That is half the truth. Robert Harrison did not run away. He was forced to leave you.”

He took a yellowed letter out of the folder. There was a dark red wax seal on the edge of the paper, and on it was a small sign of a wheat ear. I remembered that sign from my mother’s old medallion since childhood.

Patterson read the letter aloud:

“Naomi, if you ever learn of this, know that I preferred losing my own name to protect you. Your mother was right about one thing: power is useful only when it does not destroy the people you love.”

The words blurred before my eyes.

“What does this mean?”

The lawyer took a deep breath.

“Your father Robert Harrison was not an ordinary businessman. He owned a secret investment association operating in many countries, whose true value exceeded a trillion dollars. After your birth, he transferred everything into your mother’s name and left you as the heir after his death.”

Silence fell in the room.

“No,” I whispered. “This is impossible. I had two jobs to pay the rent.”

“That is exactly why they hid it from you. He told your father that until your life was free from danger, the truth must not be revealed to you.”

Elena placed a second document on the table.

“This is the fund management agreement. You are already its sole beneficiary.”

At that moment the door opened as if someone had smashed it from inside. Trevor burst in, and Britney followed behind him.

“Naomi, leave here,” he shouted. “These people are deceiving you.”

“Then why did you come?”

Trevor looked at Patterson.

“My wife is sick. She cannot make decisions.”

“Interesting,” the lawyer said calmly. “Yesterday evening you yourself were discussing divorcing her and custody of the children.”

Britney stepped forward.

“Naomi, if you take control of this money now, you will lose everyone. Trevor loves you.”

I looked at him and for the first time saw not the man I had trusted for ten years, but a frightened stranger.

“Yesterday evening you mocked my children’s clothes,” I told Britney. “And now you are telling me that my husband loves me?”

Trevor struck the table with his hand.

“Sign away your rights! Today! I need all this to save my company.”

Patterson turned on the phone. A recorded voice rang out in the room: Trevor was telling Britney that I was a “poor, useful wife” and that, when necessary, he would take the children away from me too.

Trevor froze. Britney’s mouth fell open.

“This was recorded illegally,” he mumbled.

“No,” Patterson replied. “The hotel security gave it to us from its own cameras. And this is only the beginning.”

He looked at the phone. A new message appeared on the screen. His face suddenly changed.

“Mrs. Harrison, you must know that Robert Harrison’s death was not natural. The police from Switzerland have just called me. And the first surname on the list of suspicious visitors is your husband’s…”