Chapter 9: The DNA Test That Disappeared
I couldn't stop looking at the photograph.
Vanessa was holding a newborn baby.
Robert Ellis stood behind her, one hand resting on her shoulder.
On the back were four words.
Our little secret. Forever.
I felt physically sick.
“Mom, where did you get this?””
She wiped her eyes.
“Your father gave it to me.””
“When?””
“The day before he died.””
“Why didn't you show me?””
“Because he asked me not to.””
I stared at her.
“Why?””
“He said the truth could destroy your life if it came out the wrong way.””
I looked down at the photograph again.
There was no question about the man's identity.
I had seen Robert's face in the old business photographs.
He was the same accountant who had signed off on the questionable transfers.
The same man who had allegedly helped Vanessa access my father's financial records.
And now I was looking at a photograph suggesting he might be Nia's biological father.
“Did Dad tell you where he got this?””
Mom nodded.
“He said he found it in an envelope inside Vanessa's old desk.””
“Did he confront her?””
“Yes.””
“What did she say?””
My mother looked toward the door.
“She denied everything.””
I laughed bitterly.
Of course she had.
“Did Dad show you the DNA results?””
“He showed me the first page. It said there was no biological relationship between Thomas and the child.””
I stared at her.
“Why would he have tested himself?””
“He wanted to know the truth before making any accusations.””
I rubbed my forehead.
“Mom, what about me?””
She looked confused.
“What about you?””
“Did Dad ever tell you whether I was Nia's biological father?””
My mother shook her head.
“No.””
I closed my eyes.
For twelve years, I had raised Nia as my daughter.
I had held her when she was born.
I had stayed awake during her first fever.
I had taught her to ride a bicycle, helped her with mathematics, and attended every school performance.
She was my daughter.
But now I was beginning to wonder whether Vanessa had built our entire marriage on a lie.
At 9:15 the following morning, Detective Bennett called.
“Daniel, we've received preliminary information from the medical laboratory.””
I stood in the hospital corridor.
“What did they find?””
“The tablets in your mother's bottle are not her prescribed medication. The identification process is still being completed, and we won't speculate about the effects until the full report is available.””
I gripped the phone.
“Could they explain her confusion?””
“They may have contributed. Her treating doctors will need to determine that.””
“What about the prescription change?””
“We've traced the electronic request to a device registered under an email address associated with your wife.””
My stomach tightened.
“Can you prove she submitted it?””
“We're still obtaining the necessary records.””
I leaned against the wall.
“And the financial documents?””
“We've referred those for further examination. There are discrepancies in the signatures, but forensic verification will take time.””
I nodded.
Then she said:
“There's something else. We've identified the woman listed in the original accident report.””
I stopped breathing.
“Who?””
“Eleanor Harris. She was treated for injuries that night, but the hospital record was filed under a different surname.””
“Why?””
“We're investigating that discrepancy.””
“Can you reopen my father's accident investigation?””
“It's under review. We have not reached any conclusions about what happened.””
I closed my eyes.
“Thank you.””
Before ending the call, she added:
“Daniel, one more thing. Your wife has contacted the station.””
My stomach dropped.
“What did she say?””
“She wants to make a statement concerning your mother's medication.””
I stared at the floor.
“What kind of statement?””
“She claims your mother had been taking medication incorrectly and that you and your daughter may have misunderstood what you found.””
I felt anger rise.
“That's a lie.””
Detective Bennett's voice remained calm.
“That's why we're investigating.””
At noon, I went to the family home with a police officer to collect some of Nia's belongings.
Vanessa was waiting in the living room.
She wore black trousers and a white blouse.
Her makeup was perfect.
A cup of coffee sat on the table.
“Daniel,” she said.
I didn't answer.
The officer remained near the entrance.
Vanessa looked at him.
“Is this really necessary?””
“Mrs. Miller,” he replied, “we're here to ensure there are no issues while Mr. Miller collects personal belongings.””
She turned toward me.
“You've made me look like a criminal.””
I walked toward the staircase.
“You should have thought about that before changing Mom's medication.””
“I didn't change anything.””
“The prescription request came from your email.””
“That doesn't prove I submitted it.””
I stopped.
“Then explain the tablets.””
She folded her arms.
“Your mother has been taking medication for years. Sometimes the pharmacy gives her different brands.””
“Not different medication.””
Vanessa looked at the officer.
“See? He's not thinking clearly. He's emotionally unstable.””
I almost laughed.
Then she approached me.
“Daniel, we need to talk about Nia.””
I turned.
“What about her?””
“She's confused. She's frightened. You've been telling her terrible things about her mother.””
“I haven't told her anything that isn't true.””
Vanessa's expression hardened.
“You don't even know what's true.””
I looked at her.
“Who is Robert Ellis?””
For the first time, she lost control of her expression.
It lasted only a second.
But I saw it.
“Why are you asking about him?””
“Because I found a photograph of you holding Nia as a newborn. Robert was standing behind you.””
She stared at me.
Then she laughed.
“That's ridiculous.””
“Is he Nia's biological father?””
Her face went completely still.
“Don't you dare bring my daughter into this.””
“She's my daughter too.””
Vanessa stepped closer.
“You have no idea what you're talking about.””
“Then answer the question.””
She lowered her voice.
“Robert was helping with the company. That's all.””
“Were you having an affair?””
“Daniel—”
“Were you?””
She slapped the coffee cup off the table.
It shattered against the floor.
The officer immediately stepped forward.
“Mrs. Miller, calm down.””
Vanessa stared at the broken pieces.
Then she looked at me.
“You want the truth? Fine. Your father was obsessed with me. He thought I owed him something.””
I felt my jaw tighten.
“What does that have to do with Robert?””
She shook her head.
“You've always believed your father was perfect.””
“He wasn't perfect. But he didn't deserve what happened.””
Vanessa's eyes narrowed.
“You should be careful what you wish to uncover.””
I stepped closer.
“Is that a threat?””
She smiled faintly.
“No. It's a warning.””
I collected Nia's clothes, school supplies, and a few photographs.
When I returned downstairs, Vanessa was sitting on the sofa.
She looked exhausted.
For a moment, I almost felt sorry for her.
Then she spoke.
“Do you remember the night Nia was born?””
I stopped.
“Of course.””
“You were in the delivery room.””
“Yes.””
“You cried when you held her.””
I stared at her.
“Why are you bringing this up?””
“Because you told everyone she was your miracle.””
I said nothing.
Vanessa looked down at her hands.
“You were so happy.””
I felt my throat tighten.
“Where are you going with this?””
She looked up.
“Do you remember who signed the birth certificate?””
I froze.
“You and I.””
“Are you sure?””
I stared at her.
“What are you saying?””
She stood.
“Maybe you should ask the hospital for the original paperwork.””
“Vanessa.””
She walked toward the staircase.
“Goodbye, Daniel.””
The officer escorted me outside.
I placed the bags in the car and sat behind the steering wheel.
My hands were shaking.
I remembered the day Nia was born.
Vanessa had been taken into surgery after complications.
I had waited outside the operating room.
A nurse had eventually brought me a clipboard.
She had told me to sign several forms.
I remembered signing them.
I remembered crying.
I remembered Vanessa telling me that everything was okay.
But I couldn't remember seeing the birth certificate.
That afternoon, I visited the hospital records department.
I submitted a formal request for the original maternity records and birth registration documents.
The clerk checked the system.
Then she frowned.
“Mr. Miller, there's something unusual here.””
“What?””
“The original paternity declaration is missing from the archived file.””
I stared at her.
“Missing?””
“Yes. We have the birth record, but the supporting declaration was removed from the digital archive several years ago.””
“Who removed it?””
She checked the system again.
“An authorized records request was submitted.””
“By whom?””
She turned the screen slightly.
I read the name.
Vanessa Miller.
The date was six months earlier.
My stomach tightened.
“Can you restore the original document?””
“We'll need to retrieve the physical archive.””
“How long?””
“Possibly several days.””
I nodded.
Then she added:
“There's also a note indicating that a second paternity test was requested shortly after the birth.””
I looked up.
“By whom?””
“The requesting party is listed as Thomas Miller.””
My father.
“What happened to the result?””
The clerk hesitated.
“According to the archive index, the report was collected in person.””
“By my father?””
“No. The collection signature belongs to someone named Robert Ellis.””
I felt the room spinning.
Robert had collected the DNA report.
Not my father.
Not Vanessa.
Robert.
And the result had disappeared.
That evening, Nia and I sat in my mother's hospital room.
She was doing better.
The doctors had adjusted her treatment and were monitoring her cognitive symptoms. She still had moments of confusion, but she had recognized me several times that day.
Nia was helping her with a crossword puzzle.
“Grandma, what's a five-letter word for someone who tells the truth?””
My mother smiled.
“Honest.””
Nia wrote it down.
Then she looked at me.
“Dad, can I ask something?””
“Of course.””
“Why is everyone talking about DNA?””
I glanced at my mother.
She looked at me gently.
I took a breath.
“There's something about the past that I don't understand yet.””
Nia put down her pencil.
“Does it have something to do with me?””
I didn't want to lie.
“Possibly.””
Her eyes filled.
“Am I still your daughter?””
I moved beside her immediately.
“Nia, look at me.””
She did.
“You have been my daughter every single day of your life. Nothing that anyone discovers about biology can change the years we've shared.””
She began crying.
I pulled her into my arms.
“I love you. That's not changing.””
She held me tightly.
Then she whispered:
“Dad, there's something I never told you.””
I pulled back slightly.
“What is it?””
She looked toward Grandma.
“Mom made me watch something when I was little.””
My stomach tightened.
“What?””
“She showed me a video of Grandpa.””
I stared at her.
“When?””
“When I was six.””
“What was on it?””
Nia wiped her eyes.
“Grandpa was talking to someone. Mom said it was a family secret and I wasn't allowed to tell you.””
My mother slowly lowered her crossword puzzle.
“What did you see, sweetheart?””
Nia looked between us.
Then she whispered:
“Grandpa was holding a baby.””
I felt cold.
“What baby?””
Nia shook her head.
“I don't know. But Mom said the baby was the reason Grandpa died.””
My mother dropped the pencil.
And then Nia added one final detail.
“The baby wasn't me.””
My phone vibrated.
An email had arrived from the hospital records department.
The subject line read:
*URGENT: ORIGINAL MATERNITY RECORD LOCATED.*
I opened the attachment.
There were two names listed under the newborn identification section.
One was Nia Miller.
The other was a second child.
A baby girl born eleven minutes after Nia.
The mother's name was Vanessa Miller.
But the second child's father was listed as:
*Robert Ellis.*
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And beside the second baby's name, someone had written:
*PLACEMENT TRANSFERRED — PRIVATE FAMILY ARRANGEMENT.*
