Chapter 3
I don’t remember crossing the street.
One second I was in my living room.
The next I was pounding on Carol’s front door.
She opened it before I reached the second knock.
“I’m sorry.”
“Where is she?”
“I went upstairs to get her some blankets. When I came back down, the back door was open.”
“How long?”
“Maybe five minutes.”
I pulled out my phone and called Emma.
Straight to voicemail.
Again.
Voicemail.
My entire body went cold.
“She doesn’t have anywhere to go.”
Carol shook her head.
“She took her backpack.”
“What was in it?”
“I don’t know.”
I ran back outside.
Rachel and Ethan were standing in my driveway.
Rachel saw my face.
“What happened?”
“Emma’s gone.”
Rachel’s expression collapsed.
“What?”
“She left Carol’s.”
“When?”
“Just now.”
Rachel grabbed her phone.
Ethan moved toward his SUV.
“I’ll drive around.”
I stepped in front of him.
“No.”
“This isn’t the time.”
“You stay away from her.”
“Michael!”
Rachel screamed my name.
I turned on her.
“You two created this.”
“And standing here blaming us is going to find her?”
She was right.
I hated that she was right.
I called 911.
Then I opened the family tracking app on my phone.
Emma’s phone appeared.
Offline.
Last location: our house.
Thirty-eight minutes earlier.
“She turned it off.”
Rachel started crying.
“Why would she do that?”
I looked at her.
“Because she heard her mother say I wasn’t her father.”
Rachel covered her mouth.
That shut her up.
The police arrived within minutes.
They asked for a recent photo.
Height.
Clothes.
Places she liked to go.
Friends.
I answered everything.
Then an officer asked the question I should have considered immediately.
“Was she upset about anything specific?”
Rachel and I looked at each other.
I said, “She found out today that I’m not her biological father.”
The officer paused.
“And she heard an argument between us.”
“Did she learn who her biological father is?”
“I don’t know.”
I thought about Ethan.
Then something flashed through my mind.
Emma’s backpack.
Three summers earlier, I had given her a small emergency card for bike rides.
Our names.
Our numbers.
Her grandparents’ address.
And the place she called her “thinking spot.”
The old playground near Willow Creek.
“I know where she might be.”
I didn’t wait.
I ran to my truck.
An officer followed.
Rachel tried to get into the passenger seat.
“No.”
She stared at me.
“She’s my daughter.”
“Then follow us.”
I drove.
The old playground was less than two miles away, near a walking trail.
Emma used to go there with me when she was little.
Whenever she was angry or embarrassed, we sat on the red bench beside the creek and threw pebbles into the water.
I parked before the truck had completely stopped.
Then I saw the red backpack.
It was sitting beneath the slide.
“Emma!”
No answer.
I ran toward the creek.
There she was.
On the bench.
Knees pulled to her chest.
Rabbit tucked under one arm.
I slowed.
Every instinct told me to run to her.
Instead, I walked.
“Hey.”
She looked at me.
Her eyes were swollen.
“You found me.”
“Always.”
She looked down.
The officer stayed back.
I sat beside her.
For a while, neither of us spoke.
Then she whispered, “Is Uncle Ethan my dad?”
My stomach dropped.
“Who told you?”
“I heard Mom.”
“When?”
“This morning.”
“How much did you hear?”
“Enough.”
She wiped her face.
“Is he?”
I wanted to lie.
I wanted to protect the world she had known yesterday.
But too many lies had already landed on her shoulders.
“Yes.”
She stared at the creek.
“Biologically.”
She picked at a loose thread on her jeans.
“So he’s my real dad.”
“No.”
Her head snapped toward me.
“He’s your biological father.”
“What’s the difference?”
“The difference is ten years.”
She said nothing.
“I don’t know what role Ethan will have in your life. Adults are going to have to figure that out. But I know what role I have.”
“What?”
“I’m Dad.”
She started crying again.
I put my arm around her.
This time she leaned into me.
“I thought you’d hate me.”
The sentence nearly stopped my heart.
“Why?”
“Because Mom lied because of me.”
“No.”
“She said she was scared you’d leave.”
“That was her decision. Not yours.”
“If I hadn’t been born—”
“Don’t finish that sentence.”
She looked at me.
“You are the best thing that ever happened to me.”
Her mouth trembled.
“Even now?”
“Especially now.”
Rachel reached us several minutes later.
She ran toward Emma.
“Oh my God.”
Emma stiffened.
Rachel stopped when she noticed.
“Baby.”
“Don’t call me that.”
Rachel’s face fell.
“Emma.”
“Why did you lie?”
Rachel looked at me.
I shook my head.
This was not mine to answer.
Rachel sat at the other end of the bench.
“I was afraid.”
“That’s what Dad said.”
Dad.
Rachel heard it too.
Her eyes flickered.
Emma continued.
“Did Uncle Ethan know?”
“Not until recently.”
“Did Aunt Michelle know?”
Rachel said nothing.
Emma looked from her mother to me.
“Does she know?”
“No,” Rachel whispered.
Emma’s eyes widened.
“You’re still lying to her?”
“That’s complicated.”
“No, it isn’t.”
I almost smiled despite everything.
Emma stood.
“I want to go home with Dad.”
Rachel looked crushed.
“I’m coming too.”
Emma shook her head.
“No.”
Rachel stared at her.
“Emma, I’m your mother.”
“And you lied to everybody.”
“Please.”
“I don’t want to talk to you.”
Rachel turned toward me.
“Say something.”
I stood.
“She needs space.”
“You’re enjoying this.”
I couldn’t believe her.
“Our child ran away because her entire identity exploded in one morning, and you think I’m enjoying this?”
The officer stepped closer.
“Let’s keep this calm.”
Rachel looked away.
Back home, another surprise was waiting.
Michelle’s car was parked at the curb.
She stood beside it.
Arms crossed.
Face pale.
Ethan was nowhere in sight.
Rachel stopped walking.
“Oh no.”
Michelle looked at her sister.
Then at Emma.
Then at me.
Her eyes were red.
“What happened?”
Rachel whispered, “Michelle…”
Michelle pulled out her phone.
“Ethan sent me a message saying he needed to tell me something about Emma.”
Nobody spoke.
Michelle’s voice cracked.
“What does my husband need to tell me about my niece?”
Emma grabbed my hand.
Michelle looked down at our joined hands.
Then she saw Rachel’s suitcase through the open front door.
Her expression changed.
“Rachel.”
Rachel began crying.
Michelle stepped backward.
“No.”
“Please let me explain.”
“No.”
“It was ten years ago.”
Michelle’s hand flew to her mouth.
Emma pressed closer to me.
Michelle stared at her.
And then she understood.
I watched the truth move across her face.
Confusion.
Disbelief.
Horror.
Then heartbreak.
“My husband?”
Rachel sobbed.
“I’m sorry.”
“My husband?”
“It happened once.”
Michelle laughed once, but there was no humor in it.
“Of course.”
“Michelle—”
“All these years?”
“I swear nothing happened after that.”
“You let me hold her at the hospital.”
Rachel closed her eyes.
“You let me tell everyone how much she looked like Michael.”
“Please.”
“You watched me struggle through infertility.”
That sentence silenced everyone.
Michelle stepped closer.
“You sat beside me after my third miscarriage.”
Rachel was shaking now.
“I know.”
“No, you don’t know.”
Michelle pointed toward Emma.
“You knew you were carrying my husband’s child while you held my hand and told me someday I’d have a baby.”
Emma began crying.
I pulled her against me.
“That’s enough.”
Michelle immediately looked horrified.
“Emma, I’m sorry.”
Emma buried her face in my side.
Michelle wiped her eyes.
“This isn’t your fault, sweetheart.”
Rachel whispered, “Can we please do this somewhere else?”
Michelle looked at her.
“No.”
“Please.”
“You don’t get to decide where I fall apart.”
A door slammed behind us.
Ethan came out of the house.
Michelle turned.
For a moment they just looked at each other.
Fifteen years of marriage stood between them.
Then Michelle walked up and slapped him.
The sound echoed across the yard.
Emma gasped.
“Michelle,” I said.
She stepped away immediately.
Ethan touched his cheek.
“I deserved that.”
“You deserve worse.”
Rachel moved toward her sister.
Michelle backed away.
“Do not touch me.”
Rachel stopped.
Michelle stared at Ethan.
“When did you find out?”
“Three months ago.”
“And you didn’t tell me.”
“I needed proof.”
“You needed proof?”
“I didn’t know.”
“So you secretly took DNA from a ten-year-old child before you told your wife?”
His silence answered.
Michelle laughed through tears.
“You two deserve each other.”
Rachel’s head jerked up.
“That’s not what this is.”
Michelle looked at the suitcase.
“Really?”
Rachel followed her gaze.
“It isn’t.”
“Then why were you leaving with him?”
“I wasn’t leaving with Ethan.”
“Where were you going?”
“A hotel.”
“His hotel?”
Rachel didn’t answer.
Michelle shook her head slowly.
“I came here hoping I misunderstood his message.”
She took off her wedding ring.
Ethan’s face changed.
“Michelle.”
She threw the ring at his chest.
It hit his shirt and dropped onto the driveway.
“I didn’t misunderstand.”
She turned toward me.
“I’m sorry.”
I didn’t know what to say.
She looked at Emma.
Then at me again.
“I want to help you.”
Rachel stared at her.
“Help him?”
Michelle ignored her.
“I have things you need to see.”
Ethan suddenly stepped forward.
“Michelle, don’t.”
She looked at him.
“What things?” I asked.
Michelle’s eyes stayed on Ethan.
“Messages.”
Ethan’s face went white.
“What messages?”
Michelle looked at me.
“The ones my husband forgot were syncing to the family iPad.”
Rachel stopped crying.
For the first time that day, she looked afraid.
Michelle reached into her purse.
Then she pulled out a tablet.
“I read them before I came here.”
She held it toward me.
On the screen was a message from Ethan to Rachel.
It had been sent two weeks earlier.
Once Michael knows, he’ll be hurt enough to walk away. Then we can finally fix this.
My hand tightened around the tablet.
There was another message underneath it.
Rachel’s reply.
What if he doesn’t leave Emma?
May you like
Ethan had answered three minutes later.
Then we make sure the court gives him no choice.
