Chapter 5: The Man Behind the Name
For several seconds, I couldn't hear anything except the blood rushing in my ears.
*The baby isn't mine.*
Eric's words remained on the screen.
Then another sentence.
*Your father knows exactly who the real father is.*
I looked at my dad.
He was standing beside the window with his back to me.
“Dad.””
He didn't turn around.
“Who is he?””
Nothing.
“Dad, look at me.””
He slowly faced me.
His eyes were wet.
That frightened me more than anger would have.
“You have to tell me,” I said.
“I was trying to protect you.””
“From whom?””
He walked back to the chair and sat down.
“From all of this.””
“No.”” My voice shook.
“You don't get to say that anymore. Eric has been lying to me. You knew about the miscarriage.
You knew about the fertility clinic. You knew my name was used without my knowledge. And now he says you know who fathered my baby.””
“I do.””
The words landed like a physical blow.
I stared at him.
“You do?””
He nodded once.
“Who?””
My father looked down at his hands.
“His name is Daniel.””
I blinked.
The name meant nothing.
“Daniel who?””
My father hesitated.
“Daniel Mercer.””
I stopped breathing.
The name did mean something.
Not because I'd known him well.
Because Eric had mentioned him exactly once.
Years ago.
At the beginning of our marriage.
I remembered it suddenly.
A photograph on Eric's desk.
Two men standing outside an office building.
Eric had pointed at the taller one.
“My brother.””
I had laughed.
“You have a brother?””
“Half brother.””
Then Eric had turned the photograph facedown.
“We don't talk.””
I looked at my father.
“Daniel is Eric's brother.””
“Yes.””
My stomach tightened.
“That doesn't make sense.””
“It does.””
“No. You said the clinic used donor sperm.””
“They did.””
“Daniel donated?””
My father nodded.
I stared at the ceiling.
My thoughts were moving too quickly.
Eric couldn't father a child naturally.
Daniel could.
So why would Eric use his brother?
Why would my identity be attached to a procedure I didn't remember?
Why would my father know?
And why would Eric be terrified enough to leave me on a roadside rather than face me?
“Tell me everything.””
My father leaned forward.
“There was a problem with the first fertility procedure.””
“What problem?””
“Your miscarriage wasn't random.””
My chest tightened.
“What are you saying?””
“Eric knew you were pregnant.””
“I knew I was pregnant.””
“No. He knew before you did.””
I frowned.
“How?””
“He had your medical records.””
I shook my head.
“That's impossible.””
“It isn't.””
My father pulled another document from his coat.
“This came from the clinic's internal review.””
He placed it on my blanket.
My eyes scanned the page.
There was an appointment date.
A patient number.
A physician's signature.
Then one line jumped out at me.
*Embryo transfer authorized by spouse.*
I looked up.
“Embryo transfer?””
My father nodded.
“They didn't just use donor sperm.””
My mouth went dry.
“They created an embryo.””
“Yes.””
“With my egg?””
“Yes.””
“With Daniel's sperm?””
“Yes.””
I couldn't speak.
The baby inside me shifted.
My hand instinctively covered my stomach.
“So this baby…”
“Is genetically yours and Daniel's.””
The room blurred.
I turned my face away.
“No.””
My father said nothing.
“No,” I repeated.
“That means Eric knew.””
“Yes.””
“He knew the baby wasn't genetically his.””
“Yes.””
“And he still let me believe…”
“I know.””
Tears slid down my cheeks.
I wiped them away angrily.
“Why?””
My father looked at me.
“Because Eric believed a child with his family's DNA would secure his position.””
“His position?””
“In his business. His family trust. His inheritance.””
I stared at him.
That couldn't be the whole story.
“People don't go through all this for an inheritance.””
“They do when they're desperate.””
My phone buzzed.
Another message from Eric.
*Ask your father what happened at the clinic after your first miscarriage.*
I showed my dad.
He closed his eyes.
“He knows I'm telling you.””
“Then tell me.””
My father finally said, “After the miscarriage, Eric came to me.””
“You saw him?””
“Yes.””
“What did he want?””
“He wanted money.””
I almost laughed.
“Of course he did.””
My father ignored the bitterness in my voice.
“He told me he had debts. He said if I didn't help him, he'd lose the company.””
“You gave him money?””
“No.””
“Then what?””
“I offered to help you leave him.””
I stared at him.
“And he refused.””
“He said he'd rather destroy himself than let you take the baby away.””
My heart clenched.
“The baby hadn't even been conceived yet.””
“He was already planning.””
A knock came at the door.
Everyone turned.
Two police officers stood outside.
One was a woman in her forties, the other a younger man carrying a tablet.
The woman showed me her badge.
“Ms. Bennett, I'm Detective Harris.””
My father stood.
“Is this about the break-in?””
“Yes.””
She entered, followed by the other officer.
“We found signs that someone searched the house specifically for medical records.””
“What was taken?”” I asked.
“Pregnancy records, fertility paperwork, financial files, and several electronic devices.””
My father frowned.
“Which devices?””
“A laptop and an external hard drive.””
“That hard drive contained copies of bank statements,” he said.
Detective Harris nodded.
“We know.””
I looked between them.
“How?””
“We spoke with your father's accountant.””
My father glanced at me.
Detective Harris continued.
“We also need to ask you about your husband.””
“What about him?””
“He wasn't at the property when officers arrived.””
“So?””
“He was seen nearby.””
My stomach tightened.
“Was he alone?””
“No.””
“Who was with him?””
The detective looked at her notes.
“A man named Daniel Mercer.””
The room went completely silent.
My father closed his eyes.
I whispered, “He's here?””
“Not anymore.””
“Did you speak to him?””
“No. By the time patrol arrived, both men were gone.””
I looked at my father.
“He came to my house.””
“He came to find the records,” my father said.
“Then why didn't he come to the hospital?””
My father didn't answer.
Detective Harris looked at me carefully.
“Ms. Bennett, we need to discuss something before you make any decisions.””
“What?””
“There is a second issue.””
She handed me a photograph.
It showed the driveway outside my house.
A black SUV was parked near the curb.
I recognized it.
It was Eric's.
Beside it stood Daniel.
And someone else.
A woman.
I stared at her face.
My stomach dropped.
It was the same woman from the photograph I'd received earlier.
Eric's “assistant.””
I looked at Detective Harris.
“Who is she?””
“We're still identifying her.””
My father stared at the picture.
Then suddenly he looked sick.
“You know her.””
It wasn't a question.
Detective Harris looked at him.
“Do you?””
He didn't respond.
I felt a coldness crawl through me.
“Dad.””
He looked at me.
“Do you know who she is?””
My father lowered his eyes.
“Yes.””
I whispered, “Who?””
He swallowed.
“Her name is Vanessa.””
“Vanessa what?””
“Vanessa Mercer.””
I stared at the photograph again.
Daniel's sister.
Eric's in-law.
Someone who had apparently been in my husband's life long before I knew she existed.
My mind raced.
“Why was she at the house?””
My father looked toward the officers.
“I think you need to leave.””
Detective Harris frowned.
“Why?””
“Because Claire shouldn't be told this while she's under medical stress.””
“I'm the one who decides what I can handle,” I said.
Dad looked at me.
“You don't understand.””
“Then make me understand.””
He remained silent.
I felt something inside me harden.
“You promised me I was your daughter before I was anybody's wife.””
“Yes.””
“Then stop protecting me like I'm a child.””
My father looked broken.
Finally, he said, “Vanessa was the woman Eric was supposed to marry.””
I stared at him.
“What?””
“Before you.””
The monitor beside my bed seemed to grow louder.
“She was part of the arrangement between the two families.””
“What arrangement?””
My father looked at Detective Harris.
“She was supposed to inherit something.””
“What?””
He took a long breath.
“Daniel's trust.””
I frowned.
“What does that have to do with Eric?””
“Everything.””
He turned to me.
“Daniel was disowned years ago. Vanessa was the only person who remained connected to that side of the family. Eric married you because he needed access to the house and the financial protection attached to you.””
I felt sick.
“You're saying he married me for money.””
“I believe so.””
“And the baby?””
My father's voice dropped.
“The baby was supposed to make sure he kept that money.””
“But Daniel's the biological father.””
“Yes.””
“Then why would Eric care about the baby?””
My father looked directly at me.
“Because the trust doesn't care who the biological father is.””
I swallowed.
“What does it care about?””
“The baby.””
I didn't understand.
He stepped closer.
“The trust pays out to the first child born to an heir.””
My eyes widened.
“But Eric isn't Daniel.””
“No.””
“Then why would it count my baby?””
“Because Eric used Daniel's genetic material.””
My stomach turned.
“And there is one more condition.””
“What condition?””
My father looked at the photograph again.
“Daniel must acknowledge the child.””
The room went quiet.
I looked at the photograph of Daniel.
Then at the messages from Eric.
Everything suddenly seemed connected.
Eric needed me.
He needed my marriage.
He needed the house.
He needed this baby.
But Daniel was the one person standing between him and the money.
I looked at Detective Harris.
“Where is Daniel now?””
“We don't know.””
My phone buzzed again.
A message from an unknown number.
I opened it.
There was only one sentence.
*Claire, my name is Daniel Mercer. You need to hear the truth before Eric gets to you.*
Then another message appeared.
*And I need to tell you why I agreed to become your baby's father.*
May you like
A third message followed.
*Because I was there the night you lost your first baby.*
