PART 2: THE SECRET BEHIND LEO
That sentence scared me more than finding the cardigan ever had. I snatched the envelope directly from her hands and ripped it open.
Simon’s familiar handwriting was written neatly across the first page.
‘Gemma, I am sorry you are learning this without me. There is a five-year-old boy named Leo. You don’t owe him anything, and if you want to stop here, you can stop. But if you find him, you will understand why I couldn’t walk away. I am sorry I never told you.’
I read the short letter twice, my mind spinning completely out of control.
“Leo who?” I asked, looking up at her furiously.
Nora said nothing for a long moment.
“Is Leo your son?” I demanded outright.
“No,” Nora answered clearly.
“Were you sleeping with Simon?” I asked, abandoning any sense of polite restraint.
“No,” Nora replied firmly.
“Then who is he?” I snapped at her.
“I can’t tell you,” Nora said quietly.
I actually laughed out loud at the absurdity of it. “You come to a pregnant widow’s house with a letter from her dead husband telling her to find a five-year-old boy, and you can’t tell me who he is?”
“Simon wanted you to decide whether to keep looking,” Nora explained calmly.
“Why would he do that?” I asked angrily.
“Because once you know the truth, you can’t unknow it,” Nora warned gently.
“Stop talking like you are speaking lines in a movie,” I snapped back.
She flinched slightly at my tone. “You are right, I am sorry.”
“Who are you really?” I asked, trying to calm my racing heart.
“I grew up in foster care, and Simon and I knew each other from the children’s home,” Nora revealed softly.
That answer stopped me completely in my tracks. Simon almost never talked about those early childhood years.
“You knew him when he was a kid?” I asked softly.
“Yes,” Nora answered gently.
“And what about now?” I inquired further.
“I work with social services, helping families and children moving through the system,” Nora explained clearly.
“Was that why you were visiting him at the hospital?” I asked, pieces starting to fall together.
“I was helping him locate Leo and understand what legal options existed,” Nora confessed softly.
I swallowed hard, trying to keep my composure. “Then whose child is Leo?”
Nora shook her head firmly. “I promised Simon I wouldn’t tell you who Leo was.”
“That is ridiculous,” I muttered in frustration.
“Maybe it is,” Nora acknowledged patiently. “But he wanted you to decide whether you wanted to keep looking. He didn’t want me putting another heavy responsibility in your lap the week he died.”
“Did he have another secret family?” I asked, voicing my worst fear.
“That is exactly the question Simon made me promise not to answer,” Nora said gently.
“So that is a yes,” I assumed immediately.
“It means if you want the real answer, you have to keep looking yourself,” Nora said before turning around and stepping down the porch stairs.
By the time Nora walked away down the driveway, I was completely convinced that Simon had a secret son.
The next morning, I opened Simon’s laptop on the desk. He had changed the master password recently, but after twenty minutes of guessing, I tried the exact date we first met in high school. The screen unlocked instantly.
“Seriously, Simon?” I muttered under my breath.
Sadie looked up from her toys on the carpet. “Is Daddy inside the computer?”
My throat closed up instantly. “No, sweetheart. Mommy is just looking for something important.”
One specific name kept appearing in his recent browser history and saved files, reading simply as Leo C.
“Who are you?” I whispered to the screen.
“Mommy?” Sadie called out again.
“Nothing, baby, everything is fine,” I promised her quietly.
I scrolled through the folders and found recorded legal fees, monthly childcare expenses, and a financial file named LEO TRUST.
“You set up a trust for him?” I whispered in utter shock.
“Is that Daddy’s computer?” Sadie asked, walking over to stand beside my chair.
“Yes, honey,” I answered, keeping my eye on the screen.
“Are you mad at Daddy?” she asked innocently.
“I don’t know yet,” I admitted, clicking through more files.
Then I found the comprehensive life insurance documents. He had carefully protected guaranteed money for Sadie, the new baby, and me.
“Are you still mad?” Sadie asked softly, resting her chin on my knee.
“Yes,” I told her, stroking her soft hair.
“At Daddy?” she queried.
“I think so,” I confessed gently.
“Why?” she asked.
“Because he should have told me what he was doing,” I explained carefully.
“Can you ask him?” Sadie suggested innocently.
My hand froze on the computer mouse. “No, baby, I can’t.”
“Oh,” she said quietly, turning back to her toys.
Then I found his saved digital maps. The exact same physical address appeared repeatedly in his history, located roughly forty minutes away in the nearby suburban town of Oakridge.
I grabbed my phone and called Nora immediately. “I found the money files.”
There was a long silence on the line. “Gemma…”
“I am going to that address right now,” I told her firmly.
“Please don’t show up angry,” Nora begged softly over the line.
“So he really is Simon’s son,” I stated, taking a deep breath.
“I didn’t say that,” Nora replied quickly.
“You didn’t have to say it,” I countered coldly.
“Whatever you think Simon did, don’t make Leo pay for it,” Nora urged earnestly.
“I would never hurt a innocent child,” I fired back.
“I know you wouldn’t,” Nora said softly. “That is why Simon trusted you.”
“Don’t tell me what my husband thought,” I snapped before hanging up the phone.
I drove to Oakridge believing I was about to confront living proof that my entire marriage had been built on a giant lie. But the person waiting at that quiet residential address was about to turn my entire theory completely upside down.
The house belonged to an approved foster care family. A kind-looking woman answered the door after I knocked.
“Hello, I am Denise,” she said warmly.
“I am Gemma,” I introduced myself nervously.
Her facial expression changed instantly from polite curiosity to deep sympathy. “You are Simon’s wife.”
“You knew him?” I asked, my voice trembling slightly.
“He came here to visit Leo,” Denise explained, stepping aside.
My knees felt incredibly weak beneath me. “Can I see him?”
Denise studied my visibly pregnant frame and tired eyes, then sighed softly. “Come inside.”
A little boy was sitting on the living room rug, building an elaborate wooden train track. He looked up as we walked into the room. He had dark eyes and a stubborn cowlick on the left side of his head.
I grabbed the wooden back of a nearby dining chair to steady myself. “Oh my God.”
Denise stepped closer to my side. “Are you okay, Gemma?”
“He looks just like Simon,” I whispered, unable to take my eyes off him.
She glanced at Leo on the floor, but remained silent for a moment. “He does look a little bit like him, I suppose.”
A little bit? To me, this was undeniably his son, and I was so convinced of it that I completely stopped considering any other possible explanation.
“Leo,” Denise said gently to the boy, “this is Gemma.”
His young face brightened with recognition right away. “I know who you are.”
“You know who I am?” I asked, astonished.
“Simon showed me your picture,” Leo said happily.
“He did?” I asked, my voice catching in my throat.
“And Sadie’s picture too,” Leo added, placing another wooden track piece down.
“What did he tell you about us?” I asked softly, taking a slow step forward.
“He said Sadie really likes dinosaurs,” Leo answered with a smile.
Despite the heavy tension in my chest, I found myself smiling softly. “She really does.”
“And he said you make delicious pancakes every Sunday morning,” Leo continued casually.
My smile vanished instantly, replaced by a sudden rush of deep emotion. Simon had sat in this room and talked about our daily home life.
“How often did he come to visit you?” I asked, turning to Denise.
Denise hesitated for a brief moment before answering. “Quite a few times over the past few months.”
“Did he always come alone?” I asked carefully.
“Not always,” Denise answered honestly.
“Who came with him?” I inquired immediately.
“An older lady named Mrs. Callahan,” Denise revealed smoothly.
The name hit my memory immediately as a former family connection. “What did she tell you about Leo?”
“Almost nothing,” Denise confessed.
“Nothing at all?” I repeated with surprise.
“Gemma, this is a foster family home,” Denise explained patiently. “We have several children staying here, and we are given only the necessary information we need to care for them properly, not every detail of their private family backgrounds.”
“But you knew Simon,” I pointed out.
“I knew he cared very deeply about Leo,” Denise clarified gently.
“As his father?” I asked directly.
Denise’s expression tightened with genuine uncertainty. “I can’t answer that question for you.”
“Because you are legally not allowed to?” I pressed further.
“Because I honestly do not know the answer,” Denise stated clearly.
I stared back at Leo, who was happily rolling a blue train along the tracks. I thought I was finally close to reaching the absolute truth, but what I learned next changed the entire story completely.
