Chapter 2
Daniel stared at the paper.
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Then he reached for it.
Patricia pulled it back.
“No.”
Daniel’s expression hardened.
“Give me the document.”
“You should hear the truth first.”
“Mom.”
His voice was low now.
Dangerously low.
“Give it to me.”
Patricia finally handed it over.
Daniel scanned the first page.
Then the second.
His face changed.
“What the hell is this?”
I knew exactly what it was.
I had seen the document three days earlier.
Patricia had placed it in front of me after Daniel left for work.
She told me it was paperwork related to refinancing the house.
It wasn’t.
It transferred my fifty-percent ownership interest in our home into a family trust controlled by Patricia.
If I signed it, I would legally surrender my share of the house.
The house my father had helped me buy.
The house where I had invested nearly all the inheritance my grandmother left me.
The house where Daniel and I planned to raise our daughter.
Daniel looked at the signature.
“That’s supposed to be mine?”
Patricia crossed her arms.
“You signed it.”
“No, I didn’t.”
My stomach dropped.
Patricia’s confidence disappeared for half a second.
Then it returned.
“Of course you did.”
Daniel held the document closer to his face.
“I know my signature.”
“Daniel—”
“I did not sign this.”
I whispered, “She told me you had.”
Daniel looked at me.
The hurt in his eyes was immediate.
“You thought I was trying to take your half of the house?”
“I didn’t know what to think.”
“Emily.”
“She said you were too afraid to ask me yourself.”
Patricia laughed bitterly.
“This is unbelievable.”
Daniel turned toward her.
“What is unbelievable is you forging my signature.”
“I did not forge anything.”
“Then who did?”
She didn't answer.
Daniel pulled out his phone.
Patricia’s eyes widened.
“What are you doing?”
“Calling the police.”
That changed everything.
She lunged forward.
“Daniel, don’t be ridiculous.”
He stepped away.
“You assaulted my wife.”
“I stepped on her hand.”
“You stepped on her hand while she was eight months pregnant and on the floor because you ordered her to clean up a mess you made.”
Patricia looked at me.
The hatred in her face made my skin crawl.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
I stared at her.
“My hand is swelling.”
“You wanted him to choose you over me.”
Daniel shouted, “Stop!”
I flinched.
So did Patricia.
Then a sharp pain cut through my abdomen.
I grabbed the counter.
Daniel immediately turned toward me.
“Emily?”
I couldn't answer.
The pain tightened around my stomach.
Then my lower back.
I sucked in a breath.
“Daniel…”
He reached me just as my knees weakened.
“What’s wrong?”
“Contraction.”
His face went pale.
“How bad?”
I closed my eyes.
“Bad.”
Patricia scoffed.
“She’s had contractions for days.”
Daniel slowly looked at her.
“You knew?”
“She told me.”
“And you still made her get on the floor?”
“She’s pregnant, Daniel. She isn’t dying.”
Another pain hit me.
This one was stronger.
I cried out.
Daniel caught me against his chest.
“That’s it. We’re going to the hospital.”
He grabbed his keys.
Patricia followed us.
“You’re overreacting.”
He ignored her.
“Daniel, we need to talk about the papers.”
He turned.
“You need to get out of our house.”
Patricia blinked.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“You can’t throw your mother out.”
“I can throw anyone out who hurts my wife.”
“This is my son’s house.”
“It’s our house.”
I looked at him.
He had never corrected her that firmly before.
Patricia seemed stunned too.
Daniel pointed toward the hallway.
“Pack your things.”
“You’ll regret this.”
“No. I regret not doing it sooner.”
Her face hardened.
Then she looked directly at me.
“This isn't over.”
Daniel stepped between us.
“Yes, it is.”
But Patricia smiled.
A terrible, knowing smile.
“No, Daniel.”
She picked up her purse.
“You have no idea what your wife has been hiding from you.”
My blood turned cold.
Daniel looked at me.
Patricia saw my reaction.
And smiled wider.
“There.”
She pointed at my face.
“You see that?”
“Patricia, stop,” I said.
Daniel looked confused.
“What is she talking about?”
My contraction was easing, but panic was replacing it.
Patricia opened her purse again.
I knew immediately what she was looking for.
“Daniel, please,” I whispered. “Hospital first.”
But Patricia pulled out a sealed envelope.
The return address belonged to a private laboratory.
Daniel stared at it.
“What’s that?”
Patricia held it up.
“Something your wife didn’t want you to see.”
My heart pounded.
“That is private medical information.”
“Medical?” Daniel asked.
Patricia laughed.
“Oh, yes.”
She tore open the envelope.
“Stop!”
I moved toward her.
Pain shot through my body again.
Daniel grabbed me.
“Emily!”
Patricia unfolded the paper.
Then she read the first line.
Her expression changed.
Not into victory.
Into confusion.
She looked down again.
“What?”
Daniel snapped, “What does it say?”
Patricia was silent.
“Mom?”
She shook her head.
“This can’t be right.”
I knew then.
She had opened the wrong envelope.
The relief almost made me collapse.
Daniel took it from her.
He read the page.
His eyes widened.
Then he looked at me.
“Emily…”
My throat tightened.
The paper wasn’t about our baby.
It was about me.
A genetic screening result.
A test I had taken after finding an old hospital bracelet among my late mother’s belongings.
A test that said the woman who raised me had not been my biological mother.
Daniel looked at the report again.
“You never told me.”
“I found out four days ago.”
Patricia blinked.
“This isn’t what I ordered.”
Silence.
Daniel slowly turned toward her.
“What did you just say?”
Patricia froze.
I stared at her.
“What did you order?”
Her lips parted.
Nothing came out.
Daniel stepped closer.
“What test did you order, Mom?”
“I misspoke.”
“No.”
He held up the paper.
“You said this isn’t what you ordered.”
Patricia backed away.
“I was trying to protect you.”
My stomach twisted.
Daniel’s voice cracked.
“Protect me from what?”
Patricia looked at my belly.
And suddenly I understood.
I felt sick.
“You tested my baby?”
She said nothing.
“You tried to get a prenatal paternity test?”
Daniel’s face went blank.
Patricia lifted her chin.
“I had concerns.”
I could barely breathe.
“You stole my medical information?”
“You left papers sitting around.”
“You went through our bedroom?”
“I found what I needed.”
Daniel looked horrified.
“You thought the baby wasn’t mine?”
“I knew you wouldn’t ask.”
“Because I trust my wife!”
“You trust everyone!”
His voice shook.
“Get out.”
“Daniel—”
“Get out!”
She grabbed her suitcase from the guest room twenty minutes later.
I watched from the car while Daniel stood by the front door.
Patricia stopped beside him.
She said something I couldn't hear.
Daniel stiffened.
Then she handed him a small object.
He looked down at it.
When he came to the car, his face was pale.
“What happened?” I asked.
“Nothing.”
“What did she give you?”
He got behind the wheel.
“Emily, we need to go.”
“What did she give you?”
He hesitated.
Then opened his hand.
A silver key.
I recognized it immediately.
It belonged to the locked desk in Daniel’s late father’s study.
The desk Patricia had told us never to open.
Daniel stared at the key.
“She said if I want to know why she was trying to get your share of the house…”
He swallowed.
“…I should open my father’s desk.”
Another contraction hit.
Daniel started the engine.
We rushed toward the hospital.
But halfway there, his phone rang.
Patricia.
He rejected the call.
She called again.
And again.
Then a message appeared on the screen.
Daniel glanced at it.
His face drained of color.
“What?” I asked.
He didn't answer.
“Daniel, what does it say?”
He finally turned the phone toward me.
May you like
Patricia had written only seven words.
ASK EMILY WHO HER REAL FATHER IS.
