The cathedral stood silent, cloaked in the somber air of grief. Father Michael, a man accustomed to comforting others in their sorrow, found himself uncharacteristically shaken as he conducted the funeral service for Eleanor, a woman he had never met but who now occupied his every thought.
The moment he saw the oddly shaped birthmark on her neck—identical to the one he bore—Michael’s world shifted. Memories of his childhood at the orphanage, his unanswered questions about his origins, and the loneliness he had long buried surged forward with renewed intensity.
After the service, unable to ignore the compulsion to seek answers, Michael approached Eleanor’s children. His question about whether their mother might have had another child was met with a mixture of skepticism and curiosity. The eldest son, Mark, dismissed the notion outright, citing their mother’s impeccable character. However, the youngest daughter, Anna, was intrigued.
