Chapter 5
I ended the call.
Monica called back immediately.
I did not answer.
My body felt numb.
Grant Mercer had broken into my house.
He had threatened me through a bedroom door.
He had helped my mother fake a pregnancy.
And now she claimed he was my biological father.
Dad remained motionless.
The paternity report trembled in his hand.
Detective Ruiz asked, “Can we confirm this document is authentic?”
Claire examined the date.
“It was completed twenty-one years ago.”
I was twenty-two.
Dad looked at me.
“I don’t care what it says.”
His voice was weak but certain.
“You are my daughter.”
I wanted to believe that was enough.
But the room had filled with questions.
“Did you know?”
“No.”
“Did Mom ever tell you she had been with Grant?”
“No.”
Claire turned to Dad.
“You and Monica were married when Lily was born.”
“Yes.”
“And Grant was your business partner.”
Dad closed his eyes.
Betrayal had reached backward through his entire life.
Monica had not started lying four months ago.
She had built our family on lies.
Ruiz collected the evidence.
Before leaving the storage facility, she warned us that the corruption records made the situation more dangerous.
Victor Hale had money, influence, and people inside local government.
Grant might not be working alone.
Outside, reporters waited near the entrance.
Someone had told them we were there.
Cameras turned toward Dad.
Questions flew at us.
“Mr. Hartwell, did you assault your pregnant wife?”
“Is your company under investigation?”
“Did you steal money from public construction projects?”
The last question stunned him.
Grant had reversed the story.
He had leaked claims that Dad, not he, had controlled the fake vendors.
Claire guided us toward the car.
Then Monica stepped from behind the reporters.
She was wearing a maternity dress.
A rounded stomach pushed against the fabric.
She had put on another fake belly.
Her face was covered with expertly applied bruises.
The cameras surged toward her.
She raised one hand protectively over her stomach.
“My husband is trying to destroy me because I know the truth about his company,” she announced.
Dad stopped.
Claire grabbed his arm.
“Keep walking.”
Monica looked directly at me.
“My daughter is helping him because she has always hated me.”
“That stomach is fake!” I shouted.
Reporters turned.
Monica recoiled as though I had attacked her.
“She has threatened my baby repeatedly.”
I pulled out my phone.
“I have video of you using the pillow.”
Grant appeared at Monica’s side.
He wore a dark suit and an expression of concern.
My stomach twisted.
He placed an arm around her shoulders.
“Monica doesn’t need more stress,” he told the reporters.
Then he looked at me.
Our eyes met.
Did I resemble him?
I searched his face for my own.
His dark eyes.
My dark eyes.
The shape of his jaw.
The shape of mine.
I hated myself for noticing.
He knew what I was thinking.
A faint smile touched his mouth.
“Lily,” he said, “we should talk privately.”
“You broke into my house.”
“That is a serious accusation.”
“I saw you.”
“You were frightened. Perhaps you made a mistake.”
Ruiz stepped between us.
“Mr. Mercer, I need you to come with me.”
“Am I under arrest?”
“We have questions concerning a reopened investigation.”
His confidence cracked.
Only for a second.
Victor Hale’s attorney emerged from the crowd.
He handed Ruiz a document.
Grant smiled again.
Ruiz read it, furious.
The county prosecutor had ordered the evidence transferred to a special review team.
Someone powerful was already interfering.
Grant turned to the cameras.
“I have nothing to hide.”
I held up the paternity report.
“Then answer one question. Are you my father?”
The crowd went silent.
Monica stared at me.
Grant looked at the paper.
Then at Dad.
His smile vanished.
“No,” he said.
Monica gasped.
“What?”
“I am not her father.”
“You told me—”
“I told you there was a possibility.”
Monica grabbed his arm.
“You paid for the test.”
“And you believed a piece of paper Rebecca placed in a box?”
Dad stepped forward.
“Rebecca commissioned the test?”
Grant’s gaze shifted.
That was enough.
He knew more than he wanted to admit.
Claire took my arm.
“We’re leaving.”
As we reached the car, Monica shouted after us.
“Lily, wait!”
I turned.
She pushed through the reporters, abandoning Grant.
“He is lying,” she said. “He told me the test proved it.”
“You believed him for twenty-two years?”
“I was scared.”
“You keep saying that as though fear makes every lie acceptable.”
“I was nineteen when I met your father.”
“Which father?”
Her face crumpled.
I hated how much the sight still hurt me.
She was my mother.
Even after everything, part of me wanted her to hold me and promise there had been one honest thing between us.
Instead, she reached for the paper.
“Give me the test.”
I pulled it away.
“Why?”
“Because it belongs to me.”
“It has my name on it.”
“Lily, please. You don’t understand what Rebecca did.”
“Then explain it.”
Monica glanced at Grant.
He watched us from several yards away.
Fear entered her expression.
“Not here.”
“Where were you in the video? Were you actually tied up?”
Her eyes dropped.
“You faked that too.”
“Grant said it was the only way to get the key.”
“You let me believe he might kill you.”
“I knew you would help me.”
“No. You knew I still loved you enough to be manipulated.”
She flinched.
I stepped closer.
“Did you help him steal the company money?”
“He said it belonged to him.”
“Did you pay Paula Reed to fake the medical letter?”
Monica said nothing.
“Did you disable the cameras?”
Still nothing.
I nodded.
Every silence was an answer.
“I’m done.”
I turned away.
She grabbed my wrist.
“Rebecca was obsessed with your father.”
I stopped.
“She wanted Daniel for herself,” Monica continued. “She hated me. She created that test to destroy our marriage.”
“Why would she address it to me?”
“She wanted you to find it when you were older.”
“Why didn’t she give it to Dad?”
“Because she died.”
“Because Grant chased her off a bridge.”
Monica’s fingers loosened.
“What?”
“We heard the recording.”
Grant began moving toward us.
Monica looked over her shoulder.
For the first time, her fear seemed real.
“What recording?”
“The one Rebecca made while Grant followed her.”
Grant reached us.
“We’re leaving,” he told Monica.
She backed away from him.
“You said Daniel caused the accident.”
“He did.”
“Rebecca recorded you.”
“That recording can be misunderstood.”
“You told me there was no recording.”
Grant seized her arm.
Dad stepped forward, but Claire blocked him again.
Monica pulled free.
A reporter’s camera captured everything.
“Don’t touch me,” she said.
Grant leaned close to her.
“You have no idea what you’ve done.”
Then he walked away.
Monica watched him disappear into the crowd.
Her fake stomach shifted sideways beneath her dress.
The reporters noticed.
Someone shouted, “Is the pregnancy real?”
Another asked for medical proof.
Monica wrapped both arms around her stomach and fled.
By evening, the footage was everywhere.
The woman who had accused Dad of attacking her unborn baby had been filmed wearing a visibly shifting prosthetic belly.
Public sympathy began to change.
But the protective order remained.
The stolen money remained missing.
And the paternity report remained unanswered.
Claire arranged an independent DNA test.
Dad and I submitted samples.
She also persuaded Paula Reed to meet us.
Paula arrived at Claire’s office after dark.
She looked exhausted.
“I wrote the pregnancy letter,” she admitted. “Monica paid me fifteen thousand dollars.”
“Why?” I asked.
“My husband needed surgery.”
“That doesn’t justify it.”
“I know.”
“Did Monica ever have a positive pregnancy test?”
“No.”
“Did she ask you for anything else?”
Paula nodded.
“She asked me to change an old blood-type record.”
My heart began pounding.
“Whose record?”
“Yours.”
She opened her purse and handed Claire a photocopy.
My original hospital file listed my blood type as AB negative.
Dad was O positive.
Monica was A positive.
Under ordinary inheritance, Dad could not be my biological father.
Paula had changed my electronic record years later to O positive.
Dad stared at the page.
“So Monica always knew.”
Paula began crying.
“She said protecting a family sometimes required changing the truth.”
Claire asked, “Did she say who Lily’s biological father was?”
“No.”
Paula stood to leave.
Before she reached the door, she turned back.
“There’s something else. Monica wasn’t only pretending because she feared divorce.”
“What do you mean?”
“She needed Daniel to change his will before he learned about the affair.”
Dad’s eyes narrowed.
“My will?”
“She told me the baby had to be legally recognized before Friday.”
“Why Friday?”
May you like
Paula looked frightened.
“Because Victor Hale plans to force Hartwell Construction into bankruptcy on Friday morning.”
