Chapter 7: The DNA Test That Never Happened
For several seconds, I couldn't hear anything except the blood rushing through my ears.
The laboratory report lay on Margaret's desk, its pages perfectly aligned, its official seal gleaming beneath the overhead lights.
My father's signature sat at the bottom.
Six months earlier.
I had been working double shifts at a hotel then, saving money for a fashion program in New York. I remembered calling Daniel to ask whether he could help me cover the enrollment deposit.
He had told me that my dreams were expensive hobbies.
He had told me I needed to grow up.
And while I sat alone in my apartment eating cold leftovers, he had apparently been arranging DNA tests to determine whether I belonged to a family I had never known existed.
"Who authorized this test?"" I asked.
Margaret adjusted her glasses.
"The report lists a private laboratory in Connecticut. It was submitted through a legal representative acting on behalf of Daniel Carter.""
"Who provided the samples?""
She scrolled through the electronic file.
"According to the report, the tested individuals were Claire Carter and Ethan James Whitmore.""
I stared at her.
"Ethan has been dead for fifteen years.""
"Officially, yes.""
"So how could they test his DNA?""
Alexander leaned over the desk.
"That's the right question.""
He read the report carefully, his expression growing darker with every line.
"There's a reference number here for the comparison sample. Margaret, contact the laboratory directly. Ask them to preserve the original records and confirm whether this report was actually issued by them.""
She nodded and left the room.
I turned toward Alexander.
"Could this mean Ethan wasn't my father?""
"It could mean that. It could also mean the report is fraudulent, the samples were mislabeled, or someone used a reference sample that didn't belong to Ethan.""
"That's a lot of possibilities.""
"I know.""
"Then why does everyone keep acting as if my life is a legal puzzle?""
He stopped reading.
"Because people have spent years treating your life as something they can control.""
His answer silenced me.
Brielle stood near the window, staring at the gardens below. She had been unusually quiet since we arrived at Whitmore House.
"Did you know about the test?"" I asked her.
She turned.
"No.""
"Did Dad ever ask you for a DNA sample?""
Her expression changed.
"Actually, yes.""
"When?""
"About six months ago. He said he was updating the family medical records and needed samples from both of us.""
I stood.
"You gave him one?""
Brielle nodded slowly.
"He took a cheek swab from me. He said it was for a genetic screening because Grandma had a history of heart disease.""
I stared at her.
"Did he tell you he was testing my DNA, too?""
"No.""
"Did you ever see the results?""
She shook her head.
Then she looked toward the laboratory report.
"Claire, what if he didn't use Ethan's DNA at all?""
Alexander's eyes narrowed.
"Explain.""
Brielle crossed the room and examined the report.
"Last year, Dad hired a private medical service to organize some old family records. I remember seeing a box of samples in his office. There were labels with names on them.""
"What names?"" I asked.
"I don't remember all of them. But I saw yours. Mine.
Dad's. And one that said Daniel Whitmore.""
Alexander went completely still.
"Daniel Whitmore?""
"Yes.""
"That is my father's name.""
Brielle looked confused.
"He died three years ago, didn't he?""
"Yes.""
Alexander took the report from her.
"If Daniel Carter had access to my father's DNA, he could have submitted it under Ethan's name. A laboratory might have reported a match or exclusion based on a false identification.""
"But why would he do that?"" I asked.
Alexander didn't answer immediately.
Then he pointed to the final paragraph.
"Because if this report is accepted by the court, it could prevent Claire from claiming Ethan's estate.""
I felt sick.
My father had apparently taken a DNA sample from a dead man, attached the wrong name to it, and used the result to challenge my identity.
It was so elaborate that I almost admired the planning.
Almost.
"Can he get away with it?"" I asked.
"Not if the laboratory's records contradict his submission," Alexander replied.
"But we need to establish what happened before making accusations.""
My phone rang.
Daniel Carter.
I stared at the screen until it stopped.
Then a message arrived.
You have been warned. Come home, and we can discuss this privately.
A second message followed.
If you continue making claims against me, the court will hear about your unstable behavior, your financial problems, and your history of harassment.
Brielle read over my shoulder.
"He's threatening you.""
"He's trying to scare me into silence.""
"Is it working?""
I looked at the message.
"No.""
I typed a response.
I want the original DNA records, the trust statements, and every document relating to my mother's disappearance. You have until tomorrow morning to provide them.
I pressed send.
Three dots appeared immediately.
Then vanished.
My father didn't reply.
Instead, my phone began ringing again.
This time, the caller was an unknown number.
I answered.
"Hello?""
A woman's voice spoke softly.
"Claire Carter?""
"Who is this?""
"My name is Dr. Evelyn Price. I oversee records compliance at the laboratory named in your father's report.""
I straightened.
"Have you verified the test?""
"We have located a record associated with that reference number. However, I need to be careful about what I disclose without the proper legal authorization.""
"Was the report issued by your laboratory?""
There was a pause.
"The document you have appears to contain our former letterhead and a valid-looking reference number. But the signature on the authorization page does not match our records.""
I closed my eyes.
"Then the report is fake?""
"I cannot make that determination until our investigation is complete. What I can tell you is that no sample labeled Ethan James Whitmore appears in the case file associated with that reference number.""
Alexander leaned closer so he could hear.
I put the call on speaker.
"Dr. Price," he said, "this is Alexander Whitmore. Our legal counsel will contact you directly. Please preserve all records related to the case.""
"Of course, Mr. Whitmore.""
I swallowed.
"Can you tell us whose samples were submitted?""
Another pause.
"One sample was labeled Claire Carter. The second was labeled Daniel Carter.""
The room went silent.
My father had tested me against himself.
He had then submitted a report claiming I was not related to Ethan Whitmore, even though Ethan's DNA had never been involved.
"Did the results show a biological relationship between Claire and Daniel?"" Alexander asked.
"I can't disclose the findings over the phone. Your attorney can submit the appropriate request.""
"I understand.""
The call ended.
I stared at the phone.
My father had known that I was his biological daughter—or had at least been prepared to establish that relationship.
Yet he had concealed my mother's past, stolen money from my trust, and created a report designed to discredit my connection to Ethan.
Why?
What could he possibly gain by keeping me away from the Whitmore estate?
Margaret returned with a printed email from the laboratory.
"They've confirmed that the report was not authorized by their current records department," she said.
"Their legal team is preserving the relevant documentation.""
Alexander nodded.
"Good. We'll have our lawyers request the complete file.""
I looked at the report again.
The words seemed less frightening now.
My father had created a lie, but lies required maintenance. They required people to remain silent, documents to disappear, and questions to go unanswered.
I had spent my entire life doing exactly what he wanted.
That was over.
"There's one more thing," I said.
"If Dad used his own DNA, what did the actual test show?""
Margaret glanced at her notes.
"We don't have the result yet.""
"But the laboratory has it.""
"Possibly.""
I looked at Alexander.
"Then we need to get it.""
He nodded.
"We will.""
A sharp knock interrupted us.
One of the estate's attorneys entered carrying a sealed document.
"Mr. Whitmore, we've received the emergency injunction.""
Alexander opened it.
His expression changed as he read.
"What is it?"" I asked.
He handed me the first page.
The petition had been filed by Daniel Carter that morning.
It requested an immediate freeze on the Carter Family Trust and prohibited any distribution of assets until the dispute over my biological identity was resolved.
But the final paragraph was what made my hands go cold.
My father had also requested a court order requiring me to surrender the silver star pendant for forensic examination.
Attached to the petition was a sworn statement.
It claimed that the pendant contained stolen property belonging to the Whitmore family.
And the person who had signed the statement as a witness was Brielle Carter.
I turned toward my sister.
She stared at the document in horror.
"I didn't sign that.""
Alexander examined the signature.
It looked authentic.
My father had forged a laboratory report.
He had manipulated the trust.
And now he was using my sister's name to take the only object my mother had left me.
I looked at Brielle.
"Did you ever give Dad your signature on a blank document?""
Her face crumpled.
"Yes," she whispered.
"Six months ago.""
I closed my hand around the pendant.
Across the room, Alexander was already calling his attorneys.
But I was no longer thinking about the inheritance.
I was thinking about the woman in the video, sitting in a room with pale walls and a garden outside her window.
My mother had told me to protect the silver star.
And someone was willing to forge documents, steal money, and destroy our family to get it.
Whatever was hidden inside that pendant, it was worth more than thirty-two million dollars.
May you like
It was worth more than my father's reputation.
And I was beginning to suspect it was worth more than someone's life.
