Chapter 5: The DNA Report
I didn't open the paternity folder immediately.
I couldn't.
My hands were shaking too badly.
“What does it say?”” I asked.
Priya sat across from me.
“You should read it.””
“I've read enough.””
“Then you know why your mother was frightened.””
“No. I know why she was suspicious.””
Priya watched me carefully.
“There's a difference.””
I looked at the folder.
“Was this test done recently?””
“No.””
“When?””
“Six months ago.””
“By whom?””
“Your mother.””
“Without telling me?””
“She didn't have your sample.””
I looked at her.
“Then whose sample did she use?””
“Your father’s.””
I went still.
“Daniel?””
“A preserved medical sample from an old hospital archive.””
“You're telling me my father's DNA was still available?””
“Apparently.””
“And who was it compared to?””
Priya didn't answer.
I already knew.
“Natalie.””
She nodded.
I opened the folder.
The report was only three pages.
The first page showed two names.
*Daniel Mercer.*
*Subject B.*
The second page contained a probability percentage.
I read it once.
Then again.
The probability that Subject B was Daniel Mercer's biological child was *99.98%*.
I couldn't breathe.
“Subject B is Natalie?””
“Yes.””
“But Natalie is supposed to be—”
“Not Daniel's daughter.””
I stared at the report.
“Then who is she?””
Priya leaned forward.
“That is what your mother was trying to prove.””
I closed the folder.
“No.””
“Grant—”
“No.””
I stood.
“This is insane.””
“You have every right to be overwhelmed.””
“My father disappeared because of this?””
“Possibly.””
“My mother spent thirty-seven years keeping this from me?””
“Because she believed exposing it too early could put you in danger.””
I laughed bitterly.
“Danger from whom?””
Priya's silence answered.
I sat again.
“Tell me about Margaret Hale.””
Priya opened another file.
“Margaret's daughter, Susan Hale, gave birth to a baby boy on October 14, 1989.””
“Same day as me.””
“Yes.””
“Where?””
“St. Vincent.””
My heartbeat accelerated.
“What was the baby's name?””
“Nathan Hale.””
“Nate.””
“Yes.””
“And what happened?””
“The records say Nathan died shortly after birth.””
I looked at her.
“Died?””
“Yes.””
“But if Natalie is biologically Daniel's child…”
“Then Nathan's death record may be false.””
I stared at the wall.
For years, I had believed my father abandoned us.
I had imagined him driving away.
I had imagined him choosing another life.
I had imagined my mother crying alone after he disappeared.
Now I was learning that he might have disappeared because he discovered his newborn son had been switched with another child.
“Why would someone switch babies?””
“We don't know.””
“Money?””
“Possibly.””
“Adoption?””
“Possibly.””
“Someone wanted a child?””
“Possibly.””
I slammed my palm against the chair.
“That's not enough!””
“I know.””
I lowered my voice.
“Then give me something real.””
Priya opened a final document.
“This is the reason your mother borrowed the thousand dollars.””
I looked at the page.
It was a legal certification request.
A court filing.
*Petition to reopen sealed adoption records and establish biological identity.*
The petitioner was Rebecca Mercer.
The respondent was listed as an unknown party.
But there was a handwritten amendment at the bottom.
Someone had written:
*Natalie Mercer.*
I stared at it.
“She was going to take Natalie to court?””
“Not exactly.””
“Then why is her name there?””
“Because your mother believed Natalie had access to documents that could establish the truth.””
“What documents?””
“We don't know.””
“Then why didn't Mom ask her?””
Priya looked at me.
“Because she believed Natalie would destroy them.””
I felt sick.
“What made her think that?””
“She received a letter.””
“From Natalie?””
“No.””
Priya handed me a photocopy.
The handwriting was unfamiliar.
The letter contained only one sentence.
*Rebecca, stop looking for the Hale boy, or your son will lose everything.*
My blood went cold.
“When did she get this?””
“Eight months ago.””
“Why didn't she tell me?””
“Because the threat was against you.””
I read it again.
“What does ‘lose everything’ mean?””
“Your mother interpreted it as financial or legal.””
“And you?””
“I think it meant something else.””
“What?””
Priya lowered her voice.
“Your mother believed someone had been manipulating your marriage.””
I looked at the floor.
The thousand dollars.
The documents.
The memory test.
The sealed envelope.
Natalie's reaction.
Everything suddenly felt connected.
But one question kept stabbing through my thoughts.
“If Natalie was connected to my father, why would she marry me?””
Priya looked at me.
“That's the question your mother wanted you to ask.””
My phone buzzed.
Natalie again.
*Please answer me.*
I didn't.
Another message.
*I know what Priya told you.*
Then:
*She's lying about one thing.*
I looked at Priya.
“She says you're lying.””
Priya's expression didn't change.
“What does she say?””
I showed her.
The next message appeared.
*I didn't marry you because I wanted your money.*
Then another.
*I married you because someone told me you were the only person who could lead me to my father.*
My heart stopped.
I stared at the words.
“Her father?””
Priya nodded slowly.
“Daniel Mercer.””
I looked at the screen.
“Why would Natalie think my father was hers?””
“Because the DNA test says he was.””
I stood.
“My wife may be my father's daughter.””
Priya didn't answer.
I covered my mouth.
“That would mean…”
“Yes.””
“No.””
“Grant.””
“No.””
I walked away from her.
The hallway seemed endless.
Nurses hurried past.
Machines beeped.
A family cried quietly near an elevator.
And all I could think was that the woman sleeping beside me every night might share my father's blood.
My phone rang.
Natalie.
I answered.
“What?””
She was crying.
“Grant.””
“What did you know?””
“I knew something was wrong.””
“How long?””
“I found out two years ago.””
My eyes closed.
“Two years?””
“Yes.””
“You knew?””
“I suspected.””
“And you married me anyway?””
“I didn't know the truth when we got married.””
“But you suspected.””
“I was trying to find out what happened to my father.””
“You thought my father was your father.””
“I didn't know.””
“You knew enough to investigate.””
“I was scared.””
“Of what?””
She sobbed.
“That if I told you, you would hate me.””
“You should have told me.””
“I know.””
“Did you manipulate me?””
Silence.
“Natalie.””
“I never touched your money.””
“That isn't what I asked.””
“I didn't marry you for your house.””
“That isn't what I asked.””
Another silence.
Then she whispered,
“I married you because I believed your family had stolen my life.””
My chest tightened.
“What does that mean?””
“I thought your mother knew where my father was.””
“Is he alive?””
Natalie stopped crying.
The silence was terrifying.
“Natalie?””
“I don't know.””
“Then why did you say—”
“I found something last night.””
“What?””
“I found the original birth ledger.””
My heart pounded.
“Where?””
“At home.””
“Where exactly?””
“I can't tell you over the phone.””
“Why?””
“Because someone broke into the house.””
I froze.
“What?””
“I heard the back door open.””
“Are you hurt?””
“No.””
“Did they take anything?””
She whispered,
“They took the ledger.””
I looked at Priya.
She had heard enough to understand.
“Who was it?””
“I didn't see them.””
“Then how do you know they took the ledger?””
“Because they left something behind.””
“What?””
Her voice dropped.
“A photograph of your mother.””
My blood ran cold.
“Where was the photograph taken?””
Natalie whispered the answer.
“At the hospital.””
I looked through the glass doors toward the operating room.
My mother was inside.
Someone had threatened her.
Someone had threatened me.
And now someone had broken into my house.
Then Natalie said something that made my entire body go numb.
“Grant, there's one more thing.””
“What?””
“The person who left the photograph wrote a message on the back.””
“What message?””
Natalie began crying again.
“It said, ‘Ask Rebecca what happened to the second baby.’”
The call ended.
I turned toward Priya.
Before I could speak, a surgeon walked out of the operating area.
His mask hung beneath his chin.
“Family of Rebecca Mercer?””
I stepped forward.
“I’m her son.””
He looked at me.
“We managed to repair the aneurysm.””
I exhaled.
“Is she going to live?””
“She survived the surgery.””
My knees almost gave out.
“But there's a complication.””
“What kind?””
“She lost a significant amount of blood.””
“Can I see her?””
“Not yet.””
I nodded.
Then the surgeon looked at the folder in my hands.
“Before she was sedated, your mother kept repeating one thing.””
“What?””
He frowned, trying to remember.
“She said, ‘The second baby is still alive.’”
I looked at Priya.
The surgeon continued.
“Then she asked us to make sure you knew something.””
“What?””
May you like
He stared directly at me.
“She said, ‘Grant is not the one they think he is.’”
