Chapter 9: The Woman Named Rebecca
I looked from the photograph to Tasha.
“Who are you?””
She stared at the screen.
For several seconds, she appeared unable to breathe.
Then she reached for the laptop and shut it.
Daniel caught her wrist.
“Don't.””
She pulled away.
“You had no right to bring that file here.””
“I had every right. You lied to Malcolm. You lied to me. And now Maya is caught in the middle of something none of us understands.””
Tasha rose, knocking her chair backward.
“You think you understand everything because you've been collecting papers for six months?””
“No,” Daniel said.
“I think I understand enough to know you haven't told the truth.””
I stood between them.
“Both of you, stop.””
They fell silent.
I turned toward my wife.
“Rebecca Ellis. Is that your name?””
Tasha looked at Maya, who was standing beside the doorway with her arms wrapped around herself.
Then she looked at me.
“It was.””
“What does that mean?””
“My name was Rebecca before I changed it.””
“Why?””
She swallowed.
“Because I needed a fresh start.””
“From what?””
Her eyes filled with tears.
“From my family.””
I waited.
She sat down slowly, pressing her palms against her knees.
“My father was a powerful man, Malcolm. He controlled everything. Where I went to school.
Who I saw. What I studied. Even what I was allowed to do with my own money.””
I stared at her.
“You told me your parents died when you were young.””
“My mother died when I was twenty. My father was still alive.””
“You said you barely knew him.””
“I wanted you to believe that.””
The confession landed like another crack in a foundation that was already collapsing.
“Why?””
“Because my father had a way of finding people. He could make problems disappear, and he could make people disappear from his life just as easily.””
Daniel crossed his arms.
“Tell him about the clinic.””
Tasha glared at him.
He didn't move.
She looked back at me.
“My father funded the fertility clinic where Marcus and I received treatment.””
I felt the room tilt.
“What?””
“He was an investor. One of several. The clinic had a private program for wealthy families who wanted biological children without public records.””
I glanced at the document on the desk.
“And you were part of that program?””
“Yes.””
“Why didn't you tell me?””
“Because I didn't know what my father had done until after I left him.””
She took a shaky breath.
“When Marcus and I separated, I thought I'd escaped that part of my life. Then I met you. You were different.
You didn't care about money or family connections. You loved me without asking me to prove anything.””
I wanted to believe her.
That was the worst part.
Somewhere beneath my anger, I still remembered the woman who had sat beside me in hospital waiting rooms, who had laughed at my terrible cooking, who had held our newborn daughter and whispered that we would give her a better childhood than either of us had known.
But the woman sitting in front of me had also hidden an entire identity.
“What did your father do?”” I asked.
Tasha looked down.
“He used the clinic to arrange confidential donor matches for people he wanted to control. He said he was helping families. But sometimes the records were changed without the patients' knowledge.””
Daniel nodded grimly.
“My father discovered irregularities before he died. That's why he kept his own records.””
I turned toward him.
“Your father knew Tasha's father?””
“They worked together. My father handled some of the clinic's administrative systems. He discovered that donor records were being reassigned to protect certain clients.””
I looked at Tasha.
“And you knew about this when you married me?””
“No.””
“Did you know before Maya was born?””
She hesitated.
“Yes.””
My chest tightened.
“What did you know?””
“I knew my father had been asking questions about my pregnancy. I knew he had contacted the clinic. I didn't know what he intended to do.””
“Did he threaten you?””
She nodded.
“He said if I told anyone about the records, he'd make sure I lost Maya.””
The room went silent.
I looked toward my daughter.
She was watching us with wide eyes, trying to understand a world in which adults could turn the most precious thing in their lives into a weapon.
I knelt beside her.
“Baby, would you like to sit with Officer Lewis for a moment?””
She shook her head.
“I want to stay with you.””
“Okay.””
I stood again.
“Why did you take her onto that plane?””
Tasha's face crumpled.
“Because my father contacted me three weeks ago.””
Daniel's expression changed.
“What?””
“He said he had the original records. He said he knew what happened at the clinic. He told me if I wanted Maya to know the truth, I had to bring her to him.””
I stared at her.
“Your father is Daniel?””
“No!””
Her answer was immediate.
“Then why are we all here?””
“Because Daniel was supposed to meet us and take us to my father.””
I turned toward Daniel.
He looked furious.
“You told me you were bringing Maya to see me.””
“I was trying to keep my father from knowing I had contacted you.””
“You used me as a middleman?””
“I was afraid!””
Daniel stood.
“And you didn't think to tell me that your father might be involved in what happened to Marcus?””
Tasha's silence was answer enough.
I felt the last of my patience disappear.
“What's your father's name?””
Tasha looked at me.
“Robert Ellis.””
I repeated it quietly.
Robert Ellis.
I had heard that name before.
Not from Tasha.
From Marcus.
Years ago, shortly before the accident, my brother had mentioned a man who had offered him money to stop asking questions about the clinic.
I had dismissed it as another one of Marcus's arguments with someone who thought money could solve everything.
Now I remembered the way his face had changed when I asked what the man wanted.
Marcus had simply said, Someone's trying to buy a secret.
I looked at Daniel.
“Did Marcus ever tell you Robert threatened him?””
Daniel nodded.
“He recorded a conversation.””
“Where is it?””
“On the drive.””
He turned back to the laptop and opened another file.
A recording began.
A man's voice filled the office, smooth and controlled.
“Mr. Carter, I understand your concern, but these records are not your responsibility.””
Marcus answered, his voice tight.
“They concern a child.””
“The child is being raised by a loving family. What possible difference could a line on a medical record make?””
“The difference between the truth and a lie.””
A pause.
Then the other man spoke again.
“Truth is a luxury, Mr. Carter. One that people with families cannot always afford.””
The recording ended.
I stared at the screen.
I knew that voice.
I had heard it once before, during a charity dinner Tasha had insisted we attend several years ago.
A silver-haired Black man had approached our table, shaken my hand, and called me a lucky man.
Robert Ellis.
Tasha's father.
I turned toward her.
“Did he cause Marcus's accident?””
She began shaking her head.
“I don't know.””
“Did he threaten him?””
“Yes.””
“Did he know Marcus was investigating Maya's parentage?””
“Yes.””
I felt sick.
“And you brought our daughter toward him?””
“I thought I could get the records and leave before he did anything.””
“You thought you could outsmart a man who had threatened your brother-in-law?””
Tasha lowered her eyes.
“I thought I could protect Maya.””
I looked at my daughter.
She was crying silently, her face buried against my arm.
Then Daniel's phone vibrated.
He checked the screen and went completely still.
“What is it?”” I asked.
He turned the phone toward me.
A message from an unknown number read:
I know you're at the airport. Bring the child to the east entrance. Come alone, or the original records disappear forever.
Beneath the message was a photograph.
A man standing beside a black sedan outside the terminal.
Silver hair.
Dark suit.
A silver watch.
Robert Ellis.
I looked toward the glass walls.
Beyond them, passengers moved through the bright terminal, unaware that a man who might hold the answers to my brother's death was waiting somewhere nearby.
Tasha grabbed my sleeve.
“Malcolm, please. Don't go near him.””
I looked at her.
“Why?””
She whispered something that made Daniel turn pale.
“Because my father doesn't just know who Maya's biological father is.””
She swallowed hard.
“He knows what happened to Marcus that night.””
Before I could answer, my phone rang.
An unfamiliar number appeared on the screen.
I answered.
A man's calm voice came through.
“Malcolm Carter?””
“Yes.””
“My name is Robert Ellis. I believe we have some family matters to discuss.””
I gripped the phone.
“If you have anything to do with my brother's death, you'd better start talking.””
He chuckled softly.
“Your brother made a mistake. I gave him every opportunity to walk away.””
My blood ran cold.
“What did you do to him?””
His voice became quieter.
“Come to the east entrance, Malcolm. Bring your wife if you want. But leave the little girl where she belongs.””
I looked at Maya.
Robert continued.
“Because the moment you see the original file, you'll understand why everyone has been lying to you.””
The call ended.
For several seconds, I couldn't move.
Then Daniel stepped beside me.
“I know where he's waiting.””
I looked at him.
“How?””
Daniel reached into his pocket and removed a second photograph.
This one showed Marcus standing beside Robert Ellis outside a parking garage on the night of the accident.
Between them was a thick manila envelope.
On the back, Marcus had written a single sentence.
If Robert gets this file, none of us will ever know the truth.
I stared at the photograph.
Then I looked at Tasha.
“Tell me one thing before we go.””
She nodded, trembling.
“Did you love my brother?””
Her face crumpled.
“Yes.””
The answer hurt more than I expected.
But what she said next hurt even worse.
“And Malcolm,” she whispered, “Marcus didn't die because he discovered Maya might be his daughter.””
She looked directly into my eyes.
“He died because he discovered who had really been paying for the clinic.””
I stared at her.
“Who?””
Tasha opened her mouth.
Then every phone in the room began vibrating at once.
A new message had arrived on Daniel's screen.
It contained a scanned page from the original file.
At the bottom was a signature.
Robert Ellis.
And beneath it, an authorization that had been issued the day before Marcus died.
The words were unmistakable.
*CONFIDENTIAL PATERNITY TRANSFER — APPROVED.*
I read the line again.
Then I saw the name of the person who had requested it.
Not Robert Ellis.
Not Daniel Reed.
Not Tasha.
May you like
The name belonged to someone I had buried six years earlier.
And for the first time, I realized that the secret surrounding my daughter's birth might have been only the beginning of what my brother had uncovered.
