Chapter 6
I thought I would scream.
Instead, I became completely calm.
That scared my mother more.
She stood.
“Emily.”
I looked at Rachel.
“Show me.”
“What?”
“The DNA test.”
“I don’t have it.”
“Show me.”
“Daniel kept the original.”
“Then show me a copy.”
Rachel slowly reached for her phone.
Her hands were shaking.
She opened an email.
A PDF.
A laboratory report.
Probability of paternity: 99.99%.
Daniel Mercer.
Noah Foster.
Three years old at the time.
I read it twice.
Then I sent it to myself.
Rachel tried to take the phone.
“What are you doing?”
“Keeping proof.”
“Emily, please.”
“Please what?”
“Don’t tell Noah yet.”
I stared at her.
“You’re still giving me instructions?”
“He’s seven.”
“He is seven because all of you lied for four years after learning the truth.”
Mom stepped forward.
“We need to think about what is best for Noah.”
I turned on her.
“You lost the right to say that when you helped hide this.”
“I didn’t know about the test.”
Rachel looked at Mom.
Mom’s face changed.
“You told me you never tested him.”
Rachel looked down.
For the first time, my mother looked betrayed too.
A bitter part of me wanted to laugh.
Welcome to the club.
Mom sat slowly.
“You lied to me?”
Rachel started crying.
“I was scared.”
Mom shook her head.
“I defended you.”
“I know.”
“I lied to your sister for you.”
“I know.”
“And you were still lying to me?”
“Mom—”
I walked toward the door.
Rachel stood.
“Where are you going?”
“To my attorney.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“You cannot use Noah in your divorce.”
I stopped.
Then turned.
“Listen carefully.”
My voice was quiet.
“Noah is not evidence to me.”
Rachel’s lips trembled.
“He is my nephew. He is a child I love. He is also a child whose entire identity has been controlled by adults who were too selfish to face consequences.”
“I was trying to protect him.”
“No. You were trying to preserve the life you wanted.”
She started to speak.
I lifted my hand.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do. But I know this. I will never lie to that boy if he asks me a direct question.”
Rachel’s face crumpled.
I left.
By noon, the company had suspended Daniel.
By one, local corporate counsel had contacted Lawrence.
By two, Daniel called me seventeen times.
At three fifteen, he stopped.
At three seventeen, he sent one text.
You have no idea what you are doing.
I showed Lawrence.
He told me not to respond.
At four, we received the bank statements.
The home equity money had gone into three places.
A private investment account.
R.F. Strategies.
And a company called North Shore Development LLC.
I recognized the name.
Daniel had talked about North Shore for years.
A real estate project.
He said he had invested a small amount with friends.
It wasn’t small.
More than $180,000 from my house had gone into it.
Lawrence called a forensic accountant.
I sat in his conference room watching strangers discover my marriage on spreadsheets.
Then my phone rang again.
Not Daniel.
Marcus.
Rachel’s ex.
Noah’s legal father.
I felt sick.
I answered.
“Hello?”
“Emily, what the hell is going on?”
His voice was shaking with anger.
“I don’t know what Rachel told you.”
“She told me some psycho story that Daniel might be Noah’s biological father.”
I closed my eyes.
“Might be?”
“Yes.”
So Rachel was still lying.
“Marcus, you should talk to Rachel.”
“I did.”
“Then talk to her again.”
He went quiet.
“What do you know?”
I looked at Lawrence.
He shook his head, warning me to be careful.
“I know there are things Rachel hasn’t been honest about.”
“Is Daniel his father?”
I said nothing.
Marcus cursed.
“Emily.”
“I’m not the person who should tell you.”
“That means yes.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
His breathing changed.
I could hear traffic in the background.
“Where are you?”
“In my truck.”
“Pull over.”
“I’m fine.”
“Marcus, pull over.”
A few seconds passed.
Then the road noise stopped.
He sounded broken when he spoke again.
“I signed his birth certificate.”
“I know.”
“I paid child support.”
“I know.”
“I fought with Rachel for more time.”
“I know.”
“She called me a deadbeat.”
I covered my eyes.
“I know.”
“And she knew?”
I couldn’t answer.
That answer was enough too.
Marcus began crying.
I had never heard him cry before.
Not even when his father died.
“I missed his first three years because she told me he was mine and then made me feel like garbage every time I couldn’t be there.”
“Marcus—”
“Does Noah know?”
“No.”
“Does Daniel?”
I whispered, “Yes.”
Marcus went silent.
Then the call ended.
I immediately called Rachel.
She declined it.
I called again.
Declined.
Then my mother called.
“Emily, Marcus just called Rachel screaming.”
“I didn’t tell him.”
“You told him enough.”
“She told him Daniel might be the father even though she has a DNA test.”
Mom was silent.
“She is still lying.”
“She’s terrified.”
“So is Marcus.”
“Please don’t make this worse.”
There it was.
The family motto.
Don’t make this worse.
As if truth was always the dangerous part.
That evening, I returned home with new locks, an alarm code only I knew, and Lawrence’s advice not to speak to Daniel alone.
At 8:30, the doorbell rang.
I checked the camera.
Ashley.
She was standing on my porch with a cardboard box.
I opened the door but didn’t invite her inside.
“What are you doing here?”
“I brought something.”
She held out the box.
“What?”
“Daniel’s second phone.”
I stared at her.
“He has a second phone?”
“He did.”
“How did you get it?”
“He left it in my apartment last week.”
“Does he know you have it?”
“I don’t think so.”
I didn’t touch the box.
“Why bring it to me?”
“Because he called me from another number this afternoon.”
“What did he say?”
Ashley’s eyes filled with tears.
“He said if I cooperate with the investigation, he’ll seek custody of the baby.”
I looked at her stomach.
She placed one hand over it instinctively.
“He said he’ll tell a judge I’m unstable.”
“Are you?”
“No.”
“Any history he could use?”
“I had anxiety in college. That’s it.”
I believed she was frightened.
I also remembered she had slept with my husband.
Both things could be true.
“What’s on the phone?”
“I don’t know. It’s locked.”
“Then give it to the company.”
“I will.”
“Why come here first?”
Ashley looked at me for a long moment.
“Because there’s a photograph on the lock screen.”
She took the phone from the box and pressed the side button.
The screen lit up.
It wasn’t Ashley.
It wasn’t me.
It wasn’t Rachel.
It was Daniel standing beside a little boy.
Noah.
The photograph had been taken at the lake house two summers earlier.
Daniel was kneeling beside him.
His arm wrapped around Noah’s shoulders.
Both of them smiling.
I remembered taking that photo.
Daniel had asked me to send it to him afterward.
At the time, I thought it was sweet.
Ashley whispered, “He told me Noah was your sister’s son.”
“He is.”
“Why is his passcode Noah’s birthday?”
I looked at her.
“How do you know?”
“I saw him enter it once.”
My heart pounded.
I typed the six digits.
The phone unlocked.
There were hundreds of messages.
Dozens of contacts.
Hidden bank apps.
Photographs.
Then I opened the notes application.
One note was pinned to the top.
Its title was simple.
If Emily finds out.
I opened it.
The first line made my stomach turn.
Plan A: Emily believes Ashley was the only affair.
Below it:
Plan B: Blame Rachel for initiating everything.
Plan C: If financial records surface, claim Emily authorized the transfers.
May you like
Then one final line.
If all else fails, remind Emily what happened the night her father died.
