Chapter 1: The Call That Changed Everything

At 5:20 p.m., ten minutes before my family would celebrate my new job, the county clerk called to tell me I’d abandoned a child I’d never met.

They accused me of being reckless, of having a kid out of wedlock, and then ditching him.

It sounded so absurd, I almost laughed. I immediately asked for a re-investigation, my heart pounding.

But when the results came back, the shock hit me like a punch—I apparently had a six-year-old child.

I reported everything to the police, desperate for answers. The truth eventually unraveled: the child actually belonged to my childhood friend’s family. But even then, he wouldn’t admit it.

At that point, I forced a smile and said, “Fine. If he’s my child, I’ll just take him home.”

My home in Maple Heights was filled with joy and anticipation on the last day of the background check announcement.

The kitchen smelled like cinnamon and warm bread, sunlight pouring over the breakfast table. My parents had spent the day preparing for our family dinner—Mom’s famous meatloaf and mashed potatoes. Dad even splurged on a real cherry pie from Becker’s Bakery on Main, insisting this was a once-in-a-lifetime event.

Who could have guessed that at 5:20 p.m., I’d get a call from the county clerk’s office, telling me there was a problem with my background check?

The news hit like a sucker punch—my mind went completely blank. My fingers went numb. I pressed the phone to my ear like it might keep me from falling. For a few seconds, all I heard was the low hum of the fridge and the soft clatter of Mom’s silverware.

“Hello, Mr. Derek Quinn, are you still there?”

The voice snapped me back, and I forced myself to ask, “Can you tell me exactly what’s wrong with my background check?”

“Today, someone sent a letter alleging that you… have an improper lifestyle and abandoned a child born out of wedlock.”

A strange relief washed over me. At least it wasn’t something real. I tried to sound calm: “That’s impossible. This is pure fiction. I’ve been single for twenty-five years, never had a kid, no wild stories to tell. Please, you’re welcome to check.” My voice wobbled, but I kept going, desperate to sound put-together.

A pause. Then:

“That’s the situation, Mr. Quinn. We’ve also done a preliminary verification of the report’s authenticity. If you wish to appeal, we suggest you submit an appeal letter and supporting evidence to the relevant personnel department as soon as possible.”

“No, no, no, that’s absolutely impossible. There must be a mistake. I’ll write the appeal letter right away—thank you for letting me know.” The call ended with a quiet click. I just stared at my phone, numb.

I immediately opened my laptop, scouring the appeal procedures. My hands shook as I typed, the blinking cursor like an accusation on the government website.

My parents gathered around, faces tight with worry. I still managed a smile. But my voice sounded fake, even to me. What if they believed the letter instead of me? I said, “Mom, Dad, don’t worry. If we’re honest, we’ve got nothing to hide. As long as I explain things clearly and present the facts and evidence, there won’t be any problem.” Dad patted my shoulder, but I saw the lines deepen around his mouth. Mom twisted her apron in her hands.

They left to finish dinner, their voices hushed and tense from the kitchen, glancing my way every few minutes.

But the meal just didn’t taste the same. The mashed potatoes might as well have been sawdust. Mom’s meatloaf sat heavy on my plate, untouched. Dad’s cherry pie, usually a treat, looked like a joke. I tried to laugh at Dad’s corny jokes, but the weight in my chest wouldn’t budge.

After forcing down a few bites, I stayed up until three in the morning finishing the appeal letter. Every time I thought I was done, another worry clawed at me, and I’d add another explanation, another scanned document.

Now I just had to go to the police station and the neighborhood association the next day to get official proof, then mail everything with the appeal letter, and wait for the relevant departments to review and clear my name. I set my phone alarm for 7:30, but didn’t sleep a wink, just watched the clock tick by in the dark.