Chapter 7: The DNA Test
For three seconds, I couldn't move.
Elena's words kept repeating inside my head.
“Your son isn't Daniel's.””
Then she was gone.
The man dragged her through the crowd, and people stepped aside because they thought they were watching an argument.
No one understood.
No one knew that the woman being pulled away had just detonated my entire life in one sentence.
I ran.
Not after them.
Toward the hotel.
My shoes slipped against the station floor.
My hands were shaking so badly I nearly dropped my phone.
I called Evelyn.
She answered immediately.
“Where are you?””
“Hotel.””
“Are you safe?””
“Where's my son?””
A pause.
“With me.””
“Put me on video.””
“What?””
“Now.””
She did.
My son's face filled the screen.
He was asleep on the hotel bed.
Evelyn sat beside him.
I stopped walking.
“He's okay.””
“Yes.””
“Don't leave him alone.””
“I won't.””
“I'll be there in ten minutes.””
“Roz—”
“I said don't leave him.””
I ended the call.
Martin appeared at the end of the corridor.
He had obviously been watching the station through the security monitors.
“Where's Elena?””
I stopped.
“They took her.””
“What?””
“The man from the café.””
“Did you get a plate?””
“No.””
“Face?””
“Yes.””
“Can you describe him?””
“Yes.””
He reached for his phone.
“Then we can pull camera footage.””
I grabbed his arm.
“Not yet.””
“Why?””
“She told me something.””
His expression changed.
“What?””
I looked around.
“Not here.””
We stepped into a service stairwell.
I pulled the envelope Elena had given me from inside my coat.
Martin looked at it.
“What's that?””
“Evidence.””
He opened it carefully.
Inside was a photograph.
A handwritten letter.
And a small plastic hospital bracelet.
I stared at the bracelet.
The name printed on it was:
BABY MERCER.
Date:
Eight weeks before my son was born.
I looked at Martin.
“What is this?””
“I don't know.””
I turned the photograph over.
There was a date.
The same day I had gone into labor.
My stomach dropped.
“Martin.””
“What?””
“I gave birth eight weeks ago.””
He nodded.
“The bracelet is dated the day your son was born.””
“I know.””
“Then why does it say Mercer?””
I looked at the name again.
Because there was one thing I was certain of.
My baby's hospital bracelet had never said Mercer.
It had said my maiden name.
For hospital privacy.
I had requested it myself.
I opened the letter.
The handwriting was shaky.
I recognized the name at the bottom.
Marcus Mercer.
My hands started to tremble.
Martin leaned closer.
“What does it say?””
I read.
Not aloud.
I couldn't.
The first line was enough.
IF YOU ARE READING THIS, ROBERT HAS FAILED TO GET RID OF MY DAUGHTER.
My breath caught.
Then the next.
AND HE HAS FAILED TO CONTROL MY SON.
My eyes moved down.
My son.
Not daughter.
My son's name wasn't written.
Just one sentence.
HE WILL TRY TO USE THE CHILD AS LEVERAGE, BECAUSE HE BELIEVES THE CHILD IS HIS.
I stopped.
Martin whispered, “Roz?””
I kept reading.
THE CHILD IS NOT DANIEL'S.
Everything inside me went silent.
No.
I folded the letter.
“No.””
Martin stared at me.
“You think Elena was telling the truth.””
“I don't know.””
“Then why are you shaking?””
“Because this could be planted.””
He nodded.
“Exactly.””
I looked at the hospital bracelet.
“At least now we can test it.””
“Test what?””
“My son.””
Martin didn't answer.
I looked him directly in the eyes.
“DNA.””
The word hung there.
Heavy.
Permanent.
He nodded slowly.
“There are ways.””
“I don't want a way.””
“What?””
“I want the truth.””
He put the evidence back into the envelope.
“Then we need a sample from Daniel.””
“I can get one.””
“How?””
I thought about my house.
His bathroom.
His razor.
His toothbrush.
His old coffee mug.
Then I remembered something.
“Wedding ring.””
Martin frowned.
“What about it?””
“Daniel never takes it off.””
“That's not a DNA source.””
“No.””
I pulled up the photograph I'd received.
Daniel standing inside the Mercer house.
The woman beside him.
The ring visible on his hand.
“Look at his right hand.””
Martin zoomed in.
“What am I looking for?””
“The ring.””
“Yes.””
“Compare it.””
“To what?””
I opened the photograph from the station.
The one I'd taken of Elena.
My chest tightened.
She had been holding something.
Not the ring.
The chain attached to it.
A small black metal loop around her wrist.
Martin stared at the two images.
“That's Daniel's wedding ring.””
“No.””
He looked at me.
“Roz.””
“That's the ring he lost.””
His expression changed.
I remembered the night.
Three years ago.
Daniel had come home furious.
“My ring is gone.””
I'd searched the house for hours.
We never found it.
A week later he bought another identical one.
I had forgotten about the first.
Until now.
“Why would Elena have it?””
“I don't know.””
I looked at the photograph again.
“Maybe she stole it.””
“Why?””
“Maybe to prove she'd been with him.””
“Or maybe he gave it to her.””
I couldn't answer.
Martin's phone buzzed.
He read the message.
“Security found the man.””
My heart jumped.
“Where?””
“On camera.””
“Is he identified?””
“Not yet.””
“Show me.””
He pulled up the footage.
The café entrance.
The man walked into frame.
Turned.
And for half a second, the camera caught his face.
I froze.
Martin looked at me.
“Do you know him?””
I couldn't speak.
Because I did.
Not personally.
But I had seen him at Halston.
In meetings.
At board dinners.
Standing beside Robert.
Standing beside Daniel.
“That's Nathan.””
“Who?””
“Head of corporate security.””
Martin's face went blank.
“He's supposed to be in the building.””
“No.””
“What?””
“He resigned last month.””
“Why?””
I remembered Daniel mentioning it.
“Family reasons.””
Martin went silent.
“That's the man who attacked Elena?””
“Yes.””
“And he's working for Robert.””
“Yes.””
“Then why was he at the station?””
I looked at him.
“Because someone sent him.””
The hotel door opened.
Evelyn stepped out.
“You're here.””
I walked straight to her.
“Where's my son?””
“Sleeping.””
“Good.””
She studied my face.
“What happened?””
I handed her the letter.
She read the first few lines.
Then stopped.
“What is this?””
“Marcus wrote it.””
Her eyes widened.
“That's impossible.””
“So is half of what happened today.””
She read the rest.
By the time she reached the final sentence, her face had gone white.
“I knew something was wrong.””
“You knew?””
“I suspected.””
“How long?””
She looked at me.
“Since the day you called me from the hospital.””
“What happened that day?””
She hesitated.
“You don't remember?””
“No.””
“You were unconscious after the delivery.””
“Yes.””
“And Daniel wasn't in the room.””
I frowned.
“He was.””
“No.””
She shook her head.
“He arrived later.””
I stared at her.
“That's not true.””
“I saw him arrive.””
“Then why are you saying he wasn't there?””
“Because before he came, someone else was.””
“Who?””
Evelyn looked at the sleeping baby through the hotel room door.
“A woman.””
My stomach dropped.
“What woman?””
“She was wearing a hospital badge.””
“What did she want?””
“She said she was from records.””
“Records?””
“Yes.””
“What did she do?””
“She asked me to leave.””
I stared at her.
“Why?””
“She said the baby needed to be taken for additional testing.””
My blood turned cold.
“Did you let her?””
“No.””
Evelyn's eyes filled with tears.
“I told her no.””
“What happened?””
“She showed me paperwork.””
“What paperwork?””
“A transfer form.””
My pulse hammered.
“Transfer of what?””
“The baby.””
I looked toward the room.
My son.
My baby.
Evelyn continued.
“The form had Daniel's signature.””
I couldn't breathe.
“That's impossible.””
“I know.””
“Was it real?””
“I don't know.””
“Did you keep it?””
She nodded.
I nearly collapsed.
“Where?””
“At home.””
“Get it.””
“I can't.””
“Why?””
She stared at me.
“Because Robert took it.””
Everything suddenly aligned.
The strange hospital bracelet.
The false records.
The missing file.
The woman who resembled me.
The trust.
The cameras.
Daniel's behavior.
The divorce.
Someone had been manipulating records long before I ever walked out of that house.
And suddenly I understood the most terrifying possibility.
Maybe the divorce was never about the marriage.
Maybe it was about custody.
I whispered, “They were planning to take him.””
Evelyn nodded.
“Maybe.””
“No.””
I looked at the baby.
“Not maybe.””
Martin stepped closer.
“Roz.””
I turned.
He was holding his phone.
“I found the hospital record.””
“What?””
“The original.””
“Where?””
“Halston's legal archive.””
“Why would they have that?””
“I don't know.””
He turned the screen toward me.
A scanned document appeared.
Birth registration.
Mother: Roz Mercer.
Father:
My eyes moved to the final line.
FATHER: UNKNOWN.
I stared.
“No.””
Martin scrolled.
A second document.
Correction request.
Father's name added eight weeks later.
Daniel Mercer.
I felt dizzy.
“Who requested the correction?””
Martin enlarged the signature.
Robert Mercer.
I whispered, “He changed the birth record.””
“Yes.””
“Why?””
Martin looked at me.
“Because if Daniel isn't the father, they needed everyone to believe he was.””
I stared at the screen.
Then another notification appeared.
From an unknown number.
A photograph.
This time, it was an image of my son's hospital records.
Across the top, in red:
PATERNITY DISPUTED.
Then a message underneath.
YOU HAVE UNTIL MIDNIGHT TO FIND THE REAL FATHER.
I looked up.
Martin's face had gone pale.
Evelyn whispered, “Roz…”
But I wasn't listening anymore.
Because beneath the message was one final photograph.
It showed a man standing beside me in the hospital on the night my son was born.
A man I'd completely forgotten was there.
May you like
And when I zoomed in on his face, I recognized him.
It was Marcus Mercer.
