Page 89 of The Boss and the Adoption Mess
“I thought it was just a routine appointment about Catherine, but that day they ruled that I could adopt Rosie.”
“Wait—what? They ruled in your favor?” Kimberley rushes over and hugs me hard, her wet, hot hands still covered in soapy around my neck. She bounces in excitement against me, then pulls back and swats me in the chest. “Damn it, how could you keep that from me?”
“You had a lot on your plate, and I needed to work this out myself. And I didn’t want you to be in court with me. Things were discussed there you don’t know about…”
“That you can’t tell me because…?” she presses.
“It’s complicated. I’d hoped never to tell you or Rosie, but I can’t avoid at least warning you. Anything else wouldn’t be fair.”
I take a breath and hand her a dish towel so she can dry her hands. Kim looks at me, clearly worried, so I try to ease her mind.
“It has to do with Catherine. Something she did years ago that only came to light a few weeks ago.” I glance toward the kitchen door, out into the hall. “I’d like to protect Rosie from the truth, but I’m afraid she’ll find out eventually. Tonight, I was with my lawyer—Kerem. We also talked about whether I should finally tell you.”
“You’re scaring me a little, if I’m honest,” she whispers, brow furrowed. But then she takes my hands and squeezes them firmly. “No matter what it is, I’m on your side. I won’t judge you. Won’t get angry. Promise. That was me trying to joke earlier, to lighten the mood. But… I hope you know I’ll stand by you in bad times too. No matter what happened.”
“Thank you. That means a lot to me, Kim…” I look down at her hands holding mine. I squeeze back and meet her eyes with a faint smile. “You… mean a lot to me. Very much.”
Chapter 23
Kimberley
I swallow hard, feeling his firm grip around my hands, a few drops of dishwater still clinging to my fingers. What on earth could have happened that makes it so hard for him to tell me?
“You mean a lot to me too, Gabriel. You and Rosie—you’ve become my little family. I mean, if I’m even allowed to call it that…” I smile, a little embarrassed, while Gabriel looks at me intently and, for a moment, even gives me a small smile back.
“There’s so much I need to tell you,” he says quietly. “But it’s best if I start at the beginning.” His grip loosens and then he lets go completely. “You should sit down.”
That bad?
“Okay…” I keep my eyes on him as I walk over to the dining table and sit. Gabriel takes a seat across from me, turning so we’re face to face.
“A few weeks ago, Kerem called,” he begins. “He said there’d been a new development in Catherine’s case and that we were being summoned for questioning. We drove to the station together. I honestly thought there’d been trouble in prison—maybe she’d attacked someone or been attacked. But it was something completely different.”
I can see how hard it is for him to talk about this, so I move a little closer and lay my hand on his cheek.
“No matter what it is, I’m here,” I assure him. I brush my fingers lightly over his chest before taking his hand and squeezing it tight.
“She was cursing at a cellmate,” he says slowly. “Ranting about the whole situation. And then she said something that made the cellmate suspicious—because this woman knew exactly why Catherine was serving her sentence. The inmate went to a guard and asked to speak to the police. In exchange for information, she wanted better conditions or even a reduced sentence.”
I swallow hard. What’s going on?
“What… did she hear?”
“Catherine apparently implied that all the effort she went through wasn’t worth it. That there was always a risk of getting caught, and now she’s in prison for a minor offense instead of the real crime. Her cellmate figured there must be something else. A police officer reopened the file and found an incident from four years ago…” Gabriel rubs his face with his free hand. “Back then, an unknown shooter attacked our parents. Our father died, our mother survived. The perpetrator was never found, but they left behind DNA that didn’t match any registered criminal. And unless there’s suspicion of family or close acquaintances, no samples are taken. But Catherine’s in custody now, so they had no problem getting a sample from her, and… there was a match.”
“There was… a match?”
What he’s telling me is unbelievable. I draw in a breath, one hand pressed to my chest, the other clinging to his.
“The unknown DNA belonged to Catherine. She was at the crime scene that night, even though she had an airtight alibi. The police questioned her, and after hours she broke down. She confessed.”
“She… confessed?”
“Yes. She was furious at our father, my mother, me…”
“Yourmother?”
“Yes,” Gabriel says quietly. “I didn’t even know it myself, but Catherine is only my half-sister. My father had an affair and convinced Catherine’s mother to give her up to him. He didn’t want the public to know he’d fathered a child with his mistress. He pressured my mother to adopt Catherine.”
