The teenager pulled his brother closer.

“Our mother is dead.”

The woman nodded through tears.

“I know.”

“Then who are you?”

She stepped into the aisle.

“My name is Rebecca.”

The little boy looked up.

“That was Mommy’s sister’s name.”

The teenager froze.

“Our aunt died before I was born.”

Rebecca shook her head.

“No. That’s what your father told everyone.”

The lawyer looked toward her.

“Why would he do that?”

Rebecca’s hands trembled as she opened her coat pocket.

She pulled out an old envelope.

“Because your mother tried to leave him.”

The teenager’s face changed.

“What?”

“She called me the night she disappeared.”

The courtroom became painfully quiet.

“She said if anything happened to her, I had to protect you.”

The teenager’s eyes filled.

“Then where were you?”

Rebecca started crying harder.

“I came.”

She handed him the envelope.

“Your father met me outside your house.”

Inside was a photograph of Rebecca holding him as a newborn.

On the back, his mother had written:

If my boys ever have no one, Rebecca is family.

His hands shook.

“Why didn’t you take us?”

Rebecca whispered,

“Because your father told me you were both dead.”

The little boy stopped crying.

The teenager stared at her.

“He told us you were dead.”

Rebecca nodded.

For years, both sides of the family had mourned people who were still alive.

Then the stern lawyer suddenly looked down at the case file.

His expression changed.

“Judge…”

Everyone turned.

“There’s something else.”

The teenager swallowed.

“What?”

The lawyer slowly looked toward the courtroom doors.

“Your father is listed as deceased.”

“I know.”

The lawyer shook his head.

“No.”

His voice dropped.

“The man who filed for custody of your brother this morning…”

The teenager went completely still.

“…used your father’s Social Security number.”