LEWIS GORDON: RETURN OF THE FORGOTTEN HEIR

COLLISION WITH DESTINY

The old woman saw his reaction, her brows knitting as she leaned forward, voice soft with concern.

"Son, why such reactions? Hope you're alright?"

Lewis sat frozen for a moment, his chest heavy, thoughts crashing like waves inside his skull. Disbelief painted his face, but he forced himself to steady his breathing, clenching his fists beneath the table as if gripping onto logic. Finally, he spoke, his voice low but searching.

"When last did you come across your son, and in which place particularly?"

The woman blinked at him, surprised by the question, then gave a faint chuckle laced with sadness.

"Son, why the question? Do you want to help me? If that's the case, alright. Last time I met him was like twenty years ago, and it was at the orphanage."

The words hit Lewis like a jolt of lightning. His pulse quickened, but he swallowed the storm raging inside. He wasn’t the kind of man to jump to conclusions; survival had taught him patience. So he forced his face into composure, though his heart thudded wildly.

He nodded slightly, replying with a guarded tone.

"Ma’am, it has been a long time. Anyways… I wants to hear more."

The woman studied him closely, her wrinkled eyes narrowing, thoughts swirling behind them. Something in his expression, in the way his jaw tightened and the way his gaze dropped then rose again, reminded her of the boy she once lost. Her heart whispered a dangerous possibility, and she decided to press further.

"Son, What’s your name, and where did you grow up?"

Lewis’s mind sprinted between options: lie and escape, or tell the truth and risk everything. His throat tightened, but honesty clawed its way out.

"My name is Lewis Gordon," he said at last, voice firm but trembling at the edges. "And I grew up in the orphanage. The one around this county."

The woman’s lips parted in shock, her hand flying to her chest. The name, the eyes, the stance, all of it aligned with memories she had locked away for two decades. Silence draped over her like a heavy shawl as disbelief clashed with recognition.

Still, she needed more. She steadied herself and asked, almost in a whisper.

"How old are you, and when were you born?"

Lewis lifted his chin, his blue eyes glinting beneath the dim light.

"I’m twenty-three years old. Born on October."

The woman broke. Tears blurred her vision, her frail shoulders shaking as joy wrestled with grief.

"You’re truly my son," she sobbed. "Everything you just said is correct… exact. After twenty years, I’ve met my only son. God, I’m so grateful!"

Lewis’s heart cracked open, but his instinct for survival refused to yield so easily. He leaned forward, brows furrowed, voice weighted with suspicion.

"How can I know you’re truly my biological mother? I’m in a state of confusion. Please, I need evidence."

Her eyes widened with disbelief that he still doubted, but she didn’t argue. With trembling hands, she dug into her worn-out purse and pulled out an old Motorola phone. Its cracked screen flickered as she switched it on, her breath uneven. She scrolled, fingers shaking, until she stopped at a blurred photo buried in the gallery.

"Son, Come closer to see this picture."

Lewis leaned in, taking the phone carefully, his palms clammy. His eyes locked on the picture, and his breath hitched. The baby in the woman’s arms, with curly hair and bright eyes, was undeniably him. The resemblance was too raw, too exact. He tapped the remaining photos, each one hammering the truth deeper: her holding him at a recreational center, her smile filled with a mother’s pride.

His mind flashed back to the old orphanage photo still in his room, the one from Christmas years ago. The resemblance clicked like puzzle pieces snapping into place. This wasn’t a trick. No imposter could forge this truth.

Lewis’s shoulders trembled, his head dropping as tears broke free. His chest shook with a strange mix of relief and grief.

"Indeed… you’re truly my mom," he whispered hoarsely. "This is me… my childhood. I see your resemblance in me, the curly hair, the physique. I’m so happy. All these years of loneliness, it felt like the world turned its back on me. But now… I’ve found you."

His mother’s lips curved into a smile, though tears streamed down her face. Relief and joy painted her features, making her look younger for a fleeting moment. Lewis rose, stepped forward, and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead before pulling her into an embrace. She wept against his shoulder, years of sorrow breaking into joy.

But as the warmth settled, Lewis’s voice cracked again. His chest tightened with another question, one that had haunted him silently. He pulled back slightly, eyes burning.

"Mom… why did you left me in the orphanage to suffer?"

Her face fell. She looked away, her body sagging under the weight of memory. Tears welled again before she spoke, voice shaking.

"Son… It’s a long story. But let me unravel it. I left you in the orphanage because of the condition, we were sent into exile with nothing. I couldn’t feed us both. If I had kept you, you would’ve died of hunger and malnutrition."

"So I begged them to take care of you. I vanished, surviving on part-time prison cleaning jobs, paid in pennies. I slept in an abandoned cottage in the woods. I really suffered. But… I’m glad they kept you alive and raised you."

Lewis’s chest tightened. His anger melted into sorrow as he realized it wasn’t abandonment born of neglect but of desperation. He wiped his face, nodding slowly. She was still his everything. The past no longer mattered; her presence now was enough.

Still, questions clawed at him.

"Who sent us into exile and what warranted such diabolic act?"

Her head drooped as sobs tore from her. Memories carved fresh wounds. At last, she whispered.

"Your father, Martin… and his brothers. They accused me of infidelity and forced us out. Martin is the owner of one of the most influential and wealthy tech companies in Brooklyn, Gordon Technologies. I still… miss his wealth. I still love him, despite the accusations."

Lewis staggered back slightly, as if the floor shifted beneath him. His voice cracked in disbelief.

"So… we’re from a rich dynasty? And I’ve been suffering like this all my life? What… what led to those accusations?"

Her sobs deepened, her words breaking like fragile glass.

"They framed me to cast us aside. Before and during my pregnancy, they accused me of seeing a strange man. I denied it, but your father doubted me. One day, while you were still a baby, my phone rang in the bedroom. Martin answered it before I could."

"The voice on the other end said he was my longtime boyfriend… that he was responsible for my pregnancy. It was a lie, but it was the third time such a call came. That day, Martin’s rage swallowed me whole."

"He accused me, screamed Lawrence’s name, and asked if he was your real father. I swore innocence, but he refused. His brothers fueled the fire. The next day, our belongings were thrown outside. He told me to go and live with the man responsible for my pregnancy."

She broke down again, coughing between sobs. Her frail hands trembled as she spoke.

"With the little money I had, I took you and fled to my hometown, Buffalo. This basement became my prison. I don’t know Martin’s state now. I’ve not set eyes on him since that cursed day."

Lewis sat still, numb, his mind a battlefield of rage and sorrow. His fists curled against his knees, nails digging into flesh. He felt for his mother, every tear of hers carving scars into his soul.

He wanted to ask more, but his heart couldn’t take it. The weight was already unbearable.

And then, her breath caught. A sharp sneeze ripped through her fragile body. Still lying on the bed, she trembled, then slumped sideways and collapsed.