Chapter 6
We had less than forty-eight hours.
Claire gathered Dad’s accountants, his operations manager, and a criminal defense attorney in her conference room.
The table disappeared beneath bank statements and project files.
Victor Hale had been preparing the attack for months.
Three major clients had received anonymous reports accusing Dad’s company of using unsafe concrete.
A city inspector had scheduled surprise examinations of every active site.
The stolen payroll money had been routed through accounts linked to Dad’s name.
If the scheme succeeded, Hartwell Construction would collapse before anyone proved the records were false.
Dad stared at the documents.
“This is why Grant came back.”
Claire nodded.
“He and Hale wanted your contracts.”
“And Monica helped them.”
No one answered.
I thought about every evening she claimed to be tired from the pregnancy.
Every private phone call.
Every appointment Dad was forbidden to attend.
She had not merely been maintaining a personal lie.
She had been giving Grant time to dismantle Dad’s life.
Dad called his employees into the company warehouse.
He stood before forty-three frightened people and told them the truth.
Not every intimate detail.
But enough.
He admitted that funds had been stolen.
He admitted that someone was trying to frame the company.
He promised that everyone would receive their wages.
A foreman named Marcus raised his hand.
“Did you approve the cheaper concrete listed in these reports?”
“No.”
“Then we stand with you.”
Others nodded.
Dad’s eyes filled.
Monica had tried to take everything from him.
But she had underestimated the loyalty he had earned honestly.
While Dad worked with his team, I returned to Claire’s office for the DNA results.
The laboratory had marked the test urgent.
Claire opened the report.
I watched her face.
“What does it say?”
She looked up.
“Daniel is not your biological father.”
Even though I expected it, the words cut through me.
I sat down.
Claire placed the paper on the desk.
“The probability is zero.”
I stared at Dad’s name.
A lifetime reduced to a number.
Zero.
“He’s still my dad.”
“Yes.”
“But I need to know who lied.”
“Yes.”
Claire handed me a second report.
Detective Ruiz had obtained a discarded coffee cup Grant left outside the storage facility.
A court order allowed the lab to compare his DNA with mine.
Grant was not my biological father either.
I read the result twice.
“So Mom lied again.”
“Or Grant lied to her.”
“Who is my father?”
“We don’t know.”
My phone rang.
Monica.
I almost ignored it.
Then Claire nodded for me to answer.
“Lily,” Monica said. “I need to see you.”
“No.”
“I know Grant isn’t your father.”
“How?”
“He told me.”
“When?”
“Last night.”
“And you believed him when he claimed he was?”
Her voice cracked.
“He showed me the test.”
“The test from Rebecca’s box?”
“Yes.”
“Why did Rebecca have it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Stop lying.”
“I’m not.”
“You changed my blood-type record.”
Silence followed.
“Paula told us,” I continued.
Monica released a shaky breath.
“I was protecting Daniel.”
“You were protecting yourself.”
“Both can be true.”
“Who is my biological father?”
“I need to tell you in person.”
“You’ve had twenty-two years.”
“I was young.”
“And I was innocent.”
She began crying.
“I’m at your grandmother’s house.”
My grandmother Evelyn was Monica’s mother.
She had defended Monica through every scandal, every argument, and every cruel decision.
I had not heard from her since the pillow fell.
“Why should I come?”
“Because I found something Grant left behind. Something that can save your father’s company.”
Claire shook her head.
I looked toward the office window.
“Send me a picture.”
“I can’t.”
“Then send it to Detective Ruiz.”
“No police.”
“Goodbye, Mom.”
“Wait! It’s the original inspection ledger.”
I stopped.
The ledger could prove Hale’s inspectors had falsified safety reports.
“Why do you have it?”
“Grant hid it in my suitcase.”
“Then give it to the police.”
“If I do that, he’ll kill me.”
Claire wrote a note.
Tell her public place.
“Meet us at the courthouse plaza,” I said. “In daylight.”
“Your father can’t come.”
“He wasn’t invited.”
“Come alone.”
“No.”
“Lily—”
“Claire comes with me, or I don’t come.”
Monica agreed.
Detective Ruiz positioned officers nearby without Monica’s knowledge.
At three, Claire and I reached the courthouse plaza.
Monica sat on a bench beside the fountain.
She was no longer wearing the fake stomach.
Without it, she looked smaller.
Almost fragile.
But I reminded myself that fragility could be another costume.
She held a thick brown envelope.
Claire remained several steps away while I approached.
“Give me the ledger.”
Monica hugged the envelope to her chest.
“First, I want you to hear me.”
“I’ve been hearing you my entire life.”
“I loved Daniel.”
“Then why did you betray him?”
“Because love does not erase fear.”
I folded my arms.
“You were afraid he would leave.”
“He was going to leave.”
“Because you cheated.”
“Before that.”
She looked toward the fountain.
“When you came home from college, Daniel changed. He saw how I spoke to you. He saw the way I made everything about myself.”
“He finally saw you clearly.”
“Yes.”
Her answer surprised me.
“I knew he was meeting with Claire about divorce,” she continued. “Then Grant contacted me. He said he had proof Daniel had hidden the truth about Rebecca and about your birth.”
“What truth?”
“He claimed Daniel knew you weren’t his child.”
“Did he?”
“No. I don’t think so.”
“You let Dad raise me without knowing?”
Tears slid down her face.
“When I became pregnant, I did not know who your father was.”
My stomach turned.
“How many possibilities were there?”
“Two.”
“Grant and who else?”
She looked directly at me.
“Victor Hale.”
For a second, the noise of the plaza disappeared.
Victor Hale.
The man trying to destroy Dad’s company.
The man connected to Rebecca’s death.
The man who might be my biological father.
“I was nineteen,” Monica said. “Victor was thirty-eight and married. I worked at one of his offices. He told me he loved me.”
“And Grant?”
“Grant introduced us. Later, when Victor tried to end things, Grant comforted me. A month after that, I met Daniel.”
“You married Dad because you were pregnant.”
“I married him because he was kind.”
“You used his kindness.”
“I thought the baby was his.”
“But you changed my blood record.”
“I learned the truth after you were born.”
“How?”
“Rebecca figured it out. She saw your blood type on a hospital invoice. She ordered the test using a hair she took from Daniel’s jacket.”
That explained why Rebecca had the report.
“Did she threaten you?”
“No.”
Monica’s voice broke.
“She told me I had to tell Daniel. She gave me one week.”
“And she died before the week ended.”
Monica looked down.
I stepped closer.
“Did you tell Grant that Rebecca knew?”
“Yes.”
The word was barely audible.
Cold spread through me.
Grant had followed Rebecca that night because Monica warned him.
“You helped cause her death.”
“I didn’t know he would hurt her.”
“You knew he was dangerous.”
“I was terrified of losing everything.”
“So Rebecca lost her life instead.”
Monica covered her mouth and sobbed.
I felt no comfort for her.
Not then.
“Give me the ledger.”
She held it out.
Before I could take it, a gunshot cracked across the plaza.
Stone exploded from the fountain behind us.
Claire shouted my name.
People screamed and ran.
Monica shoved me to the ground.
A second shot struck the bench.
Officers rushed from cover.
I looked across the street and saw a figure on the roof of a parking garage.
Grant.
He lowered a rifle and disappeared.
Monica lay beside me.
Blood spread across her shoulder.
She had pushed me out of the bullet’s path.
Her hand still clutched the brown envelope.
She forced it toward me.
May you like
“Save Daniel,” she whispered.
Then her eyes closed.
