Chapter 4: The DNA Report That Could Destroy My Family
For several seconds, I couldn't tell which woman I was more afraid of hearing.
Rachel was still crying through the phone. Vanessa stood halfway down the staircase, gripping the railing as if the house itself were moving beneath her.
And somewhere behind the closed guest-room door, my six-year-old daughter was waiting for me to read her a bedtime story.
“My father's name was on the report?”” I asked Rachel.
“Yes.””
“That's impossible. My father died four years ago. Lily was born six years ago.””
“I know how the dates work, Daniel.””
“Then explain them!””
My voice echoed through the kitchen.
Vanessa flinched.
I lowered my tone immediately, remembering Lily was only a few feet away.
Rachel took a shaky breath.
“The report showed a close paternal relationship to your family. It didn't establish that your father was Lily's biological father. It showed a genetic connection consistent with a close relative.””
I gripped the edge of the counter.
“Who did you test?””
“Lily and a sample associated with your family.””
“What sample?””
“I used a genealogy service. The results matched a relative connected to your father's side. I don't have the original laboratory paperwork with me, and I haven't had the results independently verified.””
I stared at Vanessa.
“Did you hear that?””
She descended another step.
“Daniel, please. Don't jump to conclusions.””
“I'm not jumping to anything. I'm asking questions that apparently nobody in this family wants to answer.””
Vanessa rubbed her face.
“Your father knew my mother.””
I turned toward her.
“What?””
“Your father and Eleanor knew each other years before we met. They were involved in some business arrangement.””
“My father was an accountant. Eleanor ran a charity foundation.””
“They knew each other,” Vanessa repeated.
“That's all I'm saying.””
“You're saying my father knew your mother, your name is on a hospital record involving your newborn daughter, and my daughter has a genetic connection to my father's family. And you want me to believe these are unrelated coincidences?””
Vanessa opened her mouth, then closed it.
Rachel spoke again.
“Daniel, there's something I need to tell you about your father.””
I closed my eyes.
“What now?””
“About a year before he died, I received a letter from him.””
My stomach tightened.
“What letter?””
“He asked me to meet him privately. He said he had discovered something about Lily's birth and needed to correct a mistake.””
I could barely hear her over the blood pounding in my ears.
“Did you meet him?””
“Yes.””
“When?””
“Two months before he died.””
I remembered those final months clearly. My father, Robert Mercer, had been growing increasingly forgetful. He would stop halfway through a sentence, stare out the window, and sometimes ask me questions he had already asked that morning.
I had attributed it to age and the medication he was taking.
“What did he tell you?””
“He said he had helped Eleanor arrange something at the hospital. He wouldn't explain everything. He said he had been trying to protect you.””
“Protect me from what?””
“I asked him the same thing. He told me there were people who believed children could be used to repair old family mistakes. He said he had finally realized what that meant.””
I pressed my fingertips against my temples.
“This makes no sense.””
“I know.””
“Why didn't you tell me when he was alive?””
“Because he begged me to wait until I had proof. He said if I confronted you without it, you'd defend him. And he was right, Daniel. You would have.””
I hated that she was right.
My father had taught me how to ride a bicycle, how to balance a checkbook, and how to stand up for people who couldn't defend themselves. When my mother died, he had worked two jobs to keep me in school.
He was the last person I would have imagined participating in a secret involving newborn babies.
“Did he say whether Lily was mine?”” I asked.
Rachel hesitated.
“He said that no matter what the records showed, you were the only father Lily had ever needed.””
“That isn't an answer.””
“No. It isn't.””
Vanessa came down the remaining stairs.
“Give me the phone.””
I stepped away from her.
“No.””
“Daniel, I need to speak to Rachel.””
“You've had six years to speak to her.””
Vanessa's eyes filled with tears.
“Please. You don't understand what happened.””
“Then tell me.””
She looked toward the guest room.
“I can't do this with Lily here.””
“Lily is not the reason you can't explain yourself. She's the reason you should have told the truth.””
Vanessa's face twisted.
For a moment, she looked furious. Then the anger disappeared, leaving something raw and frightened behind.
“I never wanted her to get hurt,” she whispered.
“Then why did you tell her to leave?””
“I didn't know she was going to find that paper.””
I stared at her.
The admission hung between us.
“You knew it was there.””
Vanessa covered her mouth.
I ended the call with Rachel only after promising to call her back. Then I placed the phone on the counter and held up the document.
“Why was this hidden in Lily's picture?””
Vanessa sank onto a kitchen chair.
“Because Eleanor gave it to me.””
“When?””
“Three months ago.””
“Why?””
“She told me it was insurance.””
“Insurance against what?””
Vanessa looked at the document.
“Against the day you discovered who Lily really was.””
My stomach turned.
“Who is she?””
Vanessa began to cry.
“I can't tell you everything without telling you what happened at the hospital. But I can tell you this: my mother believed she was entitled to decide which family got which child.””
I pulled out the chair opposite her.
“Start at the beginning.””
Vanessa shook her head.
“I was twenty-six. I had just found out I was pregnant. The father wanted nothing to do with me, and my mother said I had ruined my future.””
“Who was the father?””
“I'll tell you. But you need to understand what happened first.””
She pressed both hands against the table.
“My mother controlled everything. My money, my apartment, my job. When I gave birth, she told me the baby was sick. She said the doctors had found a serious problem and that I wasn't emotionally strong enough to raise her.””
“Was the baby sick?””
“No.””
The answer came with such force that I sat back.
“No,” Vanessa repeated.
“She was healthy. My mother lied.””
“Then why did you let her take your daughter?””
“Because she told me the baby would be placed with a wealthy family that could give her a better life. She promised I could see her someday, when things were settled.””
“And you believed her?””
“I was frightened.””
“So was Rachel. So was my daughter. Yet somehow, you're the only person who keeps using fear as an excuse.””
Vanessa recoiled.
I regretted the cruelty of the words, but I couldn't take them back.
She reached into her handbag and pulled out a folded envelope.
“My mother gave me this last month. She said if you ever started asking questions, I should destroy it.””
I took the envelope.
Inside was a photograph of a hospital room. A young Vanessa sat in a bed, holding a newborn baby wrapped in a white blanket.
Beside her stood my father.
Robert Mercer looked younger, but unmistakable.
On the back of the photograph, he had written a date and one sentence.
*I promised her father I would protect this child, even if my own son never forgave me.*
I read it twice.
Then I looked up at Vanessa.
“Who is her father?””
Vanessa wiped her cheeks and whispered the name.
“Your older brother, Michael.””
My brother had died in a car accident when I was twenty-two.
He had never married. As far as I knew, he had never had a child.
I looked down at the photograph again.
The newborn in Vanessa's arms had been born six years ago.
And my dead brother had apparently left behind a daughter whose identity had been hidden from everyone who loved her.
Before I could ask another question, someone knocked sharply on the front door.
Vanessa went rigid.
She knew that knock.
I walked to the entrance and looked through the glass.
An elegant older woman stood on the porch in a dark wool coat, holding a leather folder beneath one arm.
Eleanor Reed.
Vanessa's mother.
She looked directly at me through the glass and lifted her phone.
Mine vibrated a second later.
May you like
Her message contained only one sentence.
*Send my granddaughter home, Daniel, before you learn what your father really did.*
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