And Ethan?
He looked like a child caught in a lie.
“This discussion is over,” Elizabeth declared. “The wedding will proceed as planned.”
But the look Ethan gave me said this was far from over.
Two days later, Nathan decided to escalate things publicly.
It was November 12th, a Tuesday morning at Richardson Holdings headquarters. I’d come in to collect some personal items from my old office when Nathan called an impromptu meeting in the main conference room.
Twenty employees gathered, confused why the VP of Development needed everyone present.
Then Nathan stood up, that practiced smirk plastered across his face.
“Before Curtis leaves us for married life, I wanted to thank her publicly,” he began, his voice dripping with false sincerity, “for showing us all that charity cases can sometimes surprise you.”
The room froze.
Someone gasped.
Janet from accounting dropped her coffee mug.
“After all,” Nathan continued, “not every orphan gets adopted into success. We should all appreciate the opportunities my father has provided.”
My phone was already recording in my pocket.
Several employees had their phones out too.
This was going viral internally within minutes.
“Nathan,” Patricia from HR stood up, her voice shaking with anger. “This is completely inappropriate. You cannot—”
“Can’t what? Tell the truth? Everyone here knows Curtis isn’t real family. Check the company directory. She’s not even listed as a Richardson.”
That’s when I stood up, calm as my mother taught me to be in the face of cruelty.
“You’re right, Nathan. I’m not listed as a Richardson in the directory because I chose to use my mother’s maiden name professionally. Oalia, out of respect for her memory and her contributions to building this company.”
The room shifted.
Several senior employees who remembered my mother nodded knowingly.
“But thank you for this moment,” I continued, holding up my phone. “Massachusetts is a one-party consent state. This recording will be very useful.”
Nathan’s smirk finally disappeared.
That evening, I returned to Boston Private Bank to thoroughly examine my mother’s safety deposit box. Beyond the letter I’d found earlier, there was a USB drive labeled Insurance and a folder marked Project Genesis 2019.
The documents inside made my hands shake.
Medical records, financial transfers, and a business card.
Dr. Sarah Coleman, Director, Geneche Laboratories.
My mother’s letter explained more.
Curtis, my love,
Families built on lies always crumble. The Richardson legacy isn’t what it seems. In 2019, I discovered something about Nathan that would destroy Ethan’s perfect narrative. I had the proof verified, but couldn’t use it. I was already too sick, too weak. But you, my darling, you’re stronger than I ever was.
Sarah Coleman has everything. She promised to wait for you. The truth about Project Genesis will set you free. But only if you’re brave enough to use it.
Remember, documents don’t lie, but people do, even the ones who claim to love you.
Project Genesis.
The name felt heavier now.
I called the number on Dr. Coleman’s card. She answered on the first ring as if she’d been waiting.
“Curtis, I’ve been expecting your call for five years. Your mother said you’d find me when you were ready.”
“Ready for what?”
“To learn the truth about Nathan Richardson’s paternity. Can you come to my office tomorrow? Bring the USB drive. And Curtis, your mother was right. You’re going to need all your strength for what comes next.”
I agreed to meet her at 9:00 a.m. As I hung up, I noticed my hands weren’t shaking anymore.
Whatever Project Genesis revealed, I was ready.
My mother had made sure of that.
Dr. Sarah Coleman’s office at Geneche Labs was exactly what you’d expect from Boston’s premier genetic testing facility: sterile, professional, and fortified with enough security to protect state secrets.
What I didn’t expect was the warmth in her eyes when she saw me.
“You look just like Caitlyn,” she said, embracing me like an old aunt. “We were roommates at Harvard. She was the only person who stood up for me when I was the only Black woman in our biochemistry program.”
She led me to a secure conference room and pulled out a file marked Richardson.
Chain of custody maintained.
“Your mother came to me in 2019 with suspicions about Nathan’s paternity. She’d noticed things. Nathan’s blood type didn’t match what Ethan’s should be. The timing of his birth. Michelle’s mysterious spa retreat nine months before Nathan was born.”
Sarah opened the file, revealing lab reports with official stamps and notarizations.
“December 23rd, 2019. Your mother brought me hair samples from the family Christmas party. Nathan’s hair from his jacket, Ethan’s from his study, and…”
She paused.