Private Detective Takes a Case That Uncovers a Life-Changing Secret About Himself — Story of the Day

While Working as a Private Detective, I Took a Case That Revealed a Shocking Truth About Me – Story of the Day
I assumed it would be a normal case when I was asked to locate a man’s birth mother. However, as I looked further, odd coincidences emerged that took me in an unexpected direction. Certain responses provide closure. Some open doors that should remain closed.

I sat looking at a pile of past-due rent bills in my office. As though a court were going to impose a punishment, the red warning stamps glared at me. I rubbed my temples and moaned.

My last client had been months ago. When I made the decision to work as a private investigator, I had no idea what I was thinking.

Perhaps I imagined myself living like the detectives in movies, solving major cases, and earning a decent life.

Rather, I was barely able to pay for a good meal. I was now only eating instant noodles.

I balanced a card between my fingers while leaning back in my chair. Someone knocked on the door as I was in the middle of constructing a house of cards on my desk. I jumped when I heard the startling noise, and everything fell apart.

I let out another sigh.

Stacy was my former assistant, but I couldn’t afford to keep her on staff when I didn’t have any clients. The silence had lasted too long.

There was another knock.

When the doorknob turned, a man entered. Nervous energy clung to him, yet he appeared to be about my age.

Sweat accumulated on his forehead as his hands rubbed against one another. His gaze flitted over the space.

I spoke first since he was hesitant to do so.

“I’m listening,” I responded, gesturing to the chair across from my desk. “Go ahead and sit down. I don’t bite.

After hesitating, the man sat down rigidly. He rubbed his hands together, his fingers twitching. His foot drummed on the ground.

“Uh, thanks,” he said in a whisper. He spoke in a low, uncertain voice.

I rested my elbows on the desk and leaned forward. “First time doing this?”

“Yeah,” he acknowledged. “I have no idea how it operates. I wasn’t certain if I should attend at all.

Saying, “You did, so that’s a start,” “It’s usually the hardest the first time. The next one will be simpler.

He gave a brief, apprehensive laugh, but his strained expression remained unchanged.

“Let’s get started easily. I said, “Tell me your name.”

“Matt,” was his response.

“Nice to meet you, Matt.” I nodded reassuringly at him. “What do you need help with?”

His hands were on the chair’s arms. “My mother—well, not my mother—is the one I must locate. Two years ago, my mother passed away. He stopped and inhaled deeply. “I mean the woman who gave birth to me.”

I looked at his face. His eyes were fixed on his hands, and his mouth was clenched.

“You want to find your biological mother,” I replied.

He swallowed hard and nodded.

“Do you have anything to go on?”

“Only the city where I was born and my birthdate.”

I grabbed a notebook. “What city?”

I took note of everything he told me. We were from the same town, which surprised me.

“Date of birth?”

“November 19, 1987.”

I quit writing. My stomach turned over. It was also my birthday.

I made my hand move so I could write it down.

He said, “You’ll take the case?”

“Yes,” I said. I needed the cash. However, this was a personal matter.

“Thank you,” he stood and muttered.

I said, “One last thing,” while he made a move toward the door.

He pivoted.

“How did you find me?”

“A coworker. Stacy.

I grinned. I still had Stacy’s support.

“That’s all,” I informed them.

Matt gave a nod and walked away.

I stood in my hometown the very next day, gazing at the streets I knew so well. The smell of wet pavement filled the crisp air.

Not much had changed in the area. Quiet roads, faded signage, and old brick buildings. Being back felt weird.

I hadn’t chosen this case purely for financial gain. Not only for the cash, that is. It was a personal matter. Too intimate. This is where I was born. same city. the same day.

I was unaware of my mother’s condition. Not a record. Not a trace. Nothing.

I had never understood why mother had left me, having spent my early years in foster care.

I persuaded myself that she didn’t desire me. Compared to looking and discovering that I was correct, that was simpler.

Matt, however, was looking for clarification. And I started to question whether I did as well.

I reached the medical facility where he was born. The brickwork of the original structure had chipped in several spots. I walked up to the records desk.

A nurse in her middle years looked up. Her nose was low on her reading spectacles. Her eyes were piercing and tired.

She crossed her arms and said, “Can I help you?”

“I need to check some old records,” I responded. “Shouldn’t take long.”

She gave a headshake. “Not feasible. Those files are not allowed.

On the counter, I leaned. “Hey, I’m attempting to assist someone in locating his biological mother. It’s crucial.

She pursed her lips. “Rules are rules.”

I lowered my voice and sighed. “I understand. However, I’ll need to return with further inquiries if I can’t discover what I’m looking for here. Legal ones, perhaps. We’ll both get headaches from it.

She tapped her fingers on the desk and let out a breath. “All right. Two hours. No more.

Bingo.

I looked through November 1987’s birth certificates. Page after page. Nothing. On the 19th, no boys were born.

I noticed a locked cabinet as I looked around the room. The instinct took over. I needed to make sure. It didn’t take much to break the lock because it was old.

I discovered a file inside: Abandoned Newborns.

Two boys. Me and Matt.

Carla was the name of both their mothers. One of them had a surname. One only had the name and no more details.

I took pictures of the documents, stuffed my phone in my pocket, and walked away.

I entered the woman’s entire name into my laptop as I was seated in my automobile. She was still residing here.

After entering the address into my GPS, I got behind the wheel.

My gut twisted as I stood outside her house. I balled my hands into fists and then pried them open. I had a constricted chest.

Could she be my mother? But what if she wasn’t? I couldn’t decide which response frightened me more.

After inhaling, I pressed the doorbell. A few seconds went by. The door opened.

In front of me was a woman. I was struck by something about her. Her faded red hair brought me memories of my own childhood. The nose shape and dimples are identical.

My throat became parched. This was not what I was expecting.

With a wary tone, she said, “Can I help you?”

“Are you Carla?” My voice sounded harsh.

“That’s right,” she remarked as she examined my visage.

I took a deep breath. “You gave birth to a boy more than thirty years ago. November 19, 1987. You left him at the medical facility.

She opened her mouth a little. She seemed to balance herself by holding on to the doorframe.

“How do you…?” Her voice trembled as she trailed off.

She moved out of the way. “Come inside.”

I trailed after her down a small corridor. There were framed pictures of her and the same man all over the walls. There are no kids or indications of a family other than the two of them.

I was shown to the kitchen by her. The aroma of coffee filled the room. She pointed to a seat. I took a seat.

Her hands were folded on the table as she sat opposite me.

I introduced myself as a private investigator. “I was hired to find you.”
She tensed her shoulders. “By who?”

I paused. I wanted to know why she had abandoned me. Why hadn’t she searched for me? Why I had always pondered about a person who never asked about me.

Then I noticed something on her wrist: a birthmark. My mind flashed back to Matt. The constant stroking of his hands. The same birthmark.

I felt sick to my stomach. I let out a slow breath. “I was hired by a man named Matt. He is your son. He was looking for you.

Carla put her hands over her lips. Her eyes welled with tears.

“I’m not worthy of this,” she muttered. “I was a kid. I felt afraid. I chose the worst course of action in my life. Her voice cracked. “I’ve been blaming myself daily. I also never had any more kids. Perhaps I wasn’t worthy.

I held onto the table’s edge. I said, “He wants to find you,” in a steady voice. “Don’t abandon him again.”

She sobbed, her shoulders trembling. She put her hands to her face and nodded.

She managed to mutter, “Thank you,” in between sobs.

I got up. She trailed behind. I was hesitant at the door.

I said, “One more thing,” and turned around.

She dabbed at her eyes. “Yes?”

“Do you have any memories of a woman who gave birth on your birthday? Carla was also her name.

A sorrowful smile trembled across her lips.

“Yes,” she replied. “On my way to the hospital, I picked her up. Despite not having a car, she was already in labor. As she gazed at me, her eyes grew softer. “She also gave birth to a boy. I thought that was you. Her eyes are in you.

I got a lump in my throat.

“You don’t know what happened to her, do you?” I inquired. “There were no records of her last name.”

Carla let out a sigh. “Oh, sweetheart.” She said softly. She passed away during childbirth. It went by too quickly. They didn’t even obtain her details.

A harsh breath came out of my mouth.

She went on, “I don’t know much — just what she told me on the way.” “This was not her home. merely going by. You arrived early. She was afraid. But she really wanted you. All she could think about was you.

My hands were shaking. My vision was obscured by tears.

“No one ever found her family,” Carla whispered whisperingly. Here, they laid her to rest. Only a couple of blocks away. Only the date and her first name are listed on her grave.

Unable to say, I nodded.

At last, I answered, “I’ll give Matt your address.” “And… thank you.”

She said, “Thank you,” in a whisper.

I went outside.

I texted Matt his mother’s address as I was getting into the car.

After that, I drove directly to the cemetery, where I discovered my mother’s grave marked with a plain stone bearing the date and her first name.

I wondered who she had been as I ran my fingertips over the letters. I had always thought she had left me, but now I understood the reality.

She had desired me. For me, she had stood up. She simply never had the opportunity.

I had no idea how many hours had gone by. Even if the temperature dropped, I was unable to go.

I noticed Matt at the door of Carla’s house that evening as I was driving by. She drew him into a close embrace. I felt a wave of relief. I had at least restored someone’s family.

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