Chapter 12: The Truth About My Blood
The room seemed to shrink around me.
I read the DNA report again.
My father's name.
My name.
A biological relationship that the test said did not exist.
For forty years, I'd believed Robert Reed was my biological father.
He'd taught me to drive.
He'd walked me down the aisle at my wedding.
He'd sat beside me during my first business failure and told me never to confuse temporary setbacks with permanent defeat.
Now a piece of paper was telling me that we weren't related by blood.
I pushed the report away.
"Who was my biological father?""
Mr. Harrison sat down slowly.
"I don't know.""
"You knew about this?""
"Your father suspected it. Your mother confirmed it shortly before her death.""
I stood.
"Why didn't anyone tell me?""
"Because Robert Reed considered you his son. Nothing could change that.""
"That's not an answer.""
Mr. Harrison looked at me.
"Your father believed that revealing the truth would destroy the family. He wanted you to inherit the company without carrying the burden of the circumstances surrounding your birth.""
I laughed bitterly.
"So everyone decided I didn't deserve to know who I was?""
"Marcus—"
"No. My father is dead. My mother is dead.
My brother is trying to steal my company. And apparently, my entire family history is a lie.""
I walked toward the window.
For a long time, I couldn't speak.
Then Emily quietly placed another document on the desk.
"Mr. Reed, there's a second page.""
I turned.
It was a handwritten note from my mother.
The handwriting was unmistakable.
My darling Marcus, if you ever discover the truth, remember that the man who raises a child is the man who becomes his father.
I felt my throat tighten.
The note continued.
Robert loved you before you could understand what love meant. He chose you every day. Never allow anyone to make you believe that your worth depends on your blood.
I sat down.
My mother had known.
My father had known.
And they'd both chosen to keep loving me.
For the first time since this investigation began, I felt something other than anger.
I felt grief.
But the letter wasn't finished.
The final paragraph contained a name.
*Thomas Reed.*
My father's younger brother.
My uncle.
The man who had disappeared from our family when I was three years old.
I looked at Mr. Harrison.
"Thomas?""
He nodded slowly.
"Your father suspected that Thomas was your biological father.""
"Where is he?""
"Nobody knows.""
I stared at the name.
My father's younger brother.
My uncle.
The possibility made my head spin.
"Why would my mother—"
Mr. Harrison raised his hand.
"Don't jump to conclusions. The DNA report identifies a biological relationship, but the original laboratory documentation needs independent verification. Your father never wanted assumptions to become accusations.""
I nodded.
He was right.
There were still too many unanswered questions.
Emily's phone rang.
She listened, then turned toward me.
"Mr. Reed, the police have located Arthur Bennett.""
"Where?""
"At Hartsfield-Jackson Airport.""
"Is he trying to leave?""
"Yes. He's booked on a private flight to London.""
I grabbed my jacket.
"Has he been arrested?""
"Not yet. The detective is requesting a warrant.""
I looked at Mr. Harrison.
"Can we stop him?""
"With the evidence you've collected, the investigators have grounds to seek immediate intervention.""
I called the detective.
Within minutes, he confirmed that officers were moving toward the airport.
Then my phone rang again.
An unknown number.
I answered.
"Marcus Reed.""
A man's voice came through.
"Marcus, my name is Thomas Reed.""
I froze.
"Who?""
"Your father's younger brother.""
I looked at Mr. Harrison.
His eyes widened.
"Where are you?"" I asked.
"Not far from Atlanta.""
"Why are you calling me?""
"Because I heard you've found the DNA report.""
I tightened my grip on the phone.
"Are you my biological father?""
There was a long silence.
Then he answered.
"Yes.""
I closed my eyes.
He continued.
"But that's not why I'm calling.""
"Then why?""
"Because Arthur is heading to the airport with something your father hid from him.""
"What?""
"The original trust agreement.""
"Why would Arthur have it?""
"He doesn't. He's going there to meet someone who does.""
"Who?""
Thomas lowered his voice.
"Jonathan.""
I stared at the door.
"Jonathan is supposed to be cooperating with the police.""
"Marcus, your brother has been lying to you since the day your father died.""
"What is he planning?""
Thomas answered in a whisper.
"He's going to sell the controlling rights to Reed Meridian to a private investment group.""
I felt my blood run cold.
"Who are the buyers?""
"An American investment company called Blackstone Ridge.""
I recognized the name.
They had attempted to acquire several of our properties two years earlier.
My board had rejected their offer because their financial structure was suspicious.
Thomas continued.
"They've been funding Arthur's operation for years. They don't want your father's land, Marcus. They want your entire company.""
I looked at Emily.
"How much?""
"Four hundred million dollars," Thomas said.
I gripped the desk.
"And what happens to my employees?""
"Blackstone Ridge plans to dismantle the company, sell the profitable developments, and liquidate the rest.""
Four thousand employees.
Hundreds of active construction projects.
Families depending on their paychecks.
All of it could disappear.
"Thomas, where is Jonathan?""
"At the airport.""
"How do you know?""
"Because I'm standing outside the terminal watching him.""
I grabbed my keys.
"Don't approach him. Stay where you are.""
Thomas hesitated.
Then he said something that stopped me.
"Marcus, there's one more thing you need to know.""
"What?""
"Your father didn't leave the controlling rights to you or Jonathan.""
"Then who owns them?""
Thomas answered:
"Your mother transferred them into a separate trust before she died.""
I stared at the DNA report.
"Who is the beneficiary?""
Thomas took a breath.
"That's what Jonathan is trying to steal.""
Then I heard a car engine starting on his end.
"Marcus, he's leaving!""
The call ended.
I turned toward Emily.
"Get the security team. We're going to the airport.""
But before I could reach the door, another message appeared on my phone.
It contained a photograph of Jonathan standing beside a black limousine.
And beside him was a woman I recognized immediately.
My mother.
May you like
The woman who had been dead for six years.
*The photograph had been taken that morning.*
