The Secret That Shattered a Family
Stephen’s sister, whom he had always believed to be his mother, fell gravely ill.
“Stephen, I haven’t much time left,” the woman whispered, her voice trembling with weakness. “Promise me you won’t tell Ian or Marian the secret I’m about to share. And do whatever it takes to keep the family at peace after I’m gone…”
“I promise,” Stephen replied firmly, gripping her cold hand. He loved her, even though she had always favoured Ian and Marian over him.
“Stephen… we’re not mother and son…” she murmured.
His breath caught, his heart tightening in dread. What did she mean?
“Marian wants to sell the family house in that backwater near Gloucester,” Ian argued. “Who needs that old wreck? Let it sit empty? I say we sell it and split the money!”
“Ian, the house costs nothing to keep. Life’s unpredictable—what if we need it? You, me, Stephen… we’ll always have somewhere to return to,” Marian retorted.
“Costs nothing? And who pays the bills for this ‘palace’ with a view of a derelict field?” Ian sneered, twisting his lips in his usual haughty grimace. “Wait till we’re old? I want to live now!”
Marian worked as an accountant at a local firm. Her husband, Victor, drove lorries. She thought she’d done him a favour by marrying him. Her mother-in-law, meanwhile, prayed her son would leave this “flighty upstart who gallivants around pubs with her mates—or worse.” Marian’s life was a battleground of shouting matches with her in-laws and desperate attempts to bully Victor into getting an education and “making something of himself.” Victor shrugged it off, dismissing her as fussy, never suspecting she was already eyeing someone “more promising.” He assumed his mother was just jealous, proud that he’d landed Marian at all. Love had faded, but she was the only spark left in his dreary life.
Ian fancied himself the most successful of the three. He worked in local government, climbing fast, and had moved to Gloucester with a council flat. His wife, Olivia, and their two children—twelve-year-old Michael and six-year-old Lily—shared his modest salary without complaint. Olivia had tried opening a dress shop, but it flopped, leaving her resigned to “holding onto what little she had.” Ian knew Stephen and Marian had no children, and secretly hoped the family house would go to his own. He never spoke it aloud, but the thought warmed him.
Ian had another family—his mistress, Kate, and their two sons. He’d been with her as long as he’d been with Olivia. Once, he’d had to choose, and when Olivia got pregnant first, she became his legal wife. Olivia suspected Kate’s existence but stayed silent—she had nowhere else to go, no home of her own. Ian took full advantage, playing the dutiful husband.
“Stephen, listen—it’s Marian. I spoke to Ian. He won’t sell his share. Back me up on this!” Marian’s voice crackled through the phone as Stephen, yet again, was away on business.
“Marian, you know I don’t need the money. Sort it out with Ian—whatever you decide, I’ll accept,” Stephen cut in.
“You always distance yourself!” she snapped. “I want to divorce Victor, start fresh. I need money for a flat. Men won’t chase a thirty-five-year-old with no place of her own! Victor’s only decent quality is that he owns his home.”
“I know your plans, but I won’t endorse them. Without Victor, you’ll lose yourself completely. Remember how many messes I’ve pulled you out of?”
Stephen, the eldest, did well for himself. He’d wanted to help Ian keep the house, but the conversation with Marian changed everything.
“Ian, Marian’s selling her share. You’re doing alright—what if I gift you mine, and you buy hers? The house would be yours. Everyone wins,” he suggested.
“Who do you think I am?” Ian barked. “Marian’ll ask for top dollar! If she gets desperate, I’ll lowball her. But sure, I’ll take your ‘generous’ gift. Always the rich one, aren’t you?”
Five years younger, Ian still seethed with envy. He resented Stephen’s success, schemed in petty ways. Marian irritated him too, but they maintained a fragile truce. Stephen’s calm demeanour infuriated them both—Marian masked her disdain with flattery, while Ian scowled outright.
Stephen remembered the words of the woman he’d called Mother:
“Stephen, my time’s nearly up. Promise you won’t tell Ian or Marian the truth. Keep the family together after I’m gone.”
She had been weak, ravaged by illness and grief after her husband’s death a year prior—the love of her life. Stephen, raised mostly by his grandparents, never resented her scarce visits or her favouritism. He loved her unconditionally.
“Stephen… we’re not mother and son… You’re my brother. By blood. Our father… your mother was his young lover. He raised you as his grandson. My mother—your grandmother—wouldn’t allow him to claim you. I had to adopt you. I loved our father so much…”
Stephen reeled. The woman he’d called Mother was his sister. His grandfather—his father.
“Why didn’t you tell me? Where’s my real mother?”
“I never knew her. Father paid her off, and she vanished, leaving you behind.” A shaky breath. “I wouldn’t have said anything, but… Ian’s drowning in jealousy, Marian’s reckless. I failed you all.”
“Did you stay away because of me?”
“No. My husband hated children. Said if I brought Ian and Marian, they’d leave. I couldn’t abandon him. But you—you still love me?”
“Always. Even more now,” Stephen whispered, fighting tears.
“I knew. Marian thinks I was a terrible mother. Ian blames our father. My life… wasted. Even that house overlooking the old graveyard… I wanted to fix the past. Too late now. Will you look after them?”
Stephen nodded, holding her close. He’d long accepted she loved Ian and Marian more.
The house’s fate was debated for years. Stephen couldn’t find a solution. Ian kept sneering, Marian kept scheming. They spoke the same language, but every word dripped with spite.
“Ian, the neighbour downstairs flooded the place. I’m insuring it—worried he’ll leave the gas on,” Stephen said.
Ian heard only mockery: “I’m richer, better than you!”
“Cheers for the handout! That it?” he snapped.
Marian’s response was syrupy: “Oh, Stephen, what would we do without you! Paid already? You’re brilliant!”
But Stephen knew—her sweetness hid contempt. He pitied her, once kind, now hardened by life.
One day, Ian called Marian:
“Stephen sent a solicitor. Signed his share over to us—half each. Says he’s cutting ties. Did you upset him?”
“Hardly! He’s always been odd. Let him sulk—he’ll crawl back. But I’m keeping my share.”
Ian regretted his cruelty—too late. Neither he nor Marian had ever valued Stephen. Now he was gone.
“Mr. Stephen, it’s done. Good timing on the insurance—the neighbour caused a gas leak. The house is damaged. Everyone’s been evicted,” the solicitor reported.
“Ian and Marian will get the payout?”
“Yes, I’ll ensure it.”
“I kept my promise,” Stephen murmured, gazing at her photo. He could never call her anything but Mother.
Who had he been to Ian and Marian? An outsider? No—he’d carried them for years. But his help only made things worse. Signing away his share, he walked away.
As she’d said: “Tried to mend the past, but missed the present.” He wouldn’t repeat her mistake. The house by the graveyard was ruins now. Stephen, not yet forty, began anew. Who was he without them? That, he’d yet to discover.
