Chapter 3: The Test
The word *PATERNITY* blurred beneath the tears filling my eyes.
I blinked hard.
The letters came back.
*PATERNITY TEST — CONFIDENTIAL*
My name sat beneath them.
*Emma Carter.*
Patient.
Mother.
The report was dated three months ago.
My hands started shaking so badly that the paper rattled against the desk.
Three months ago.
I remembered that month.
I remembered sitting in the doctor's office while Cole held my hand.
I remembered the technician smiling at the ultrasound screen.
“Everything looks perfect,” she'd said.
Perfect.
I looked down at the report again.
There were two names.
Mine.
And another name blacked out with a thick black marker.
My pulse jumped.
Someone had deliberately hidden the identity of the second person.
I turned the page over.
There was a note attached to the back.
*DO NOT DISCLOSE UNTIL RESULTS ARE VERIFIED.*
Underneath it was a handwritten date.
*October 14.*
My birthday.
I froze.
Whoever had arranged this test had done it on my birthday.
Why?
I read the result line again.
The actual conclusion was missing.
Someone had torn off the bottom third of the page.
I searched the drawer.
Nothing.
I opened the blue box.
Receipts.
Old photographs.
A key.
A motel room card.
And another envelope.
This one was addressed to *Dr. Lena Morris*.
I knew that name.
She was the genetic counselor at St. Vincent's.
The same doctor who had explained the baby's screening tests to me during my first trimester.
I suddenly remembered something she'd said.
Not during our appointment.
Afterward.
She had caught me in the hallway.
“Emma, before you go…”
I'd turned around.
She'd looked nervous.
“We need to verify one detail in your chart.””
“What detail?””
She had glanced toward the reception desk.
“Your family history.””
I'd laughed.
“My family history?””
She'd nodded.
“Did anyone in your immediate family have a genetic condition or unusual paternity circumstances?””
I had stared at her.
“No.””
She'd forced a smile.
“Okay. Never mind.””
I had forgotten about it.
Until now.
I grabbed my phone.
My thumb hovered over Cole's name.
Then I stopped.
Calling him would tell him I had found the report.
I wasn't ready.
Not yet.
Instead, I searched my contacts for Dr. Morris.
Before I could press call, footsteps sounded downstairs.
I went completely still.
Someone had come into the house.
My first thought was Cole.
My second was my mother.
I folded the paternity report and shoved it into my sweater pocket.
Then I slipped the photographs into the blue box and closed the lid.
The footsteps stopped beneath the stairs.
“Emma?””
Cole.
My blood went cold.
I backed toward the desk.
“Emma, I know you're up there.””
I didn't answer.
The staircase creaked.
He was coming up.
I looked around the room.
There was nowhere to hide.
The door opened.
Cole stood in the doorway.
His tie was gone.
His shirt sleeves were rolled up.
He looked exhausted.
But his eyes went straight to the blue box in my hands.
He knew.
“You found it,” he whispered.
I stared at him.
“You knew it was here.””
He closed the door behind him.
“Emma, listen.””
“No.””
“I came back because—”
“You knew.””
His jaw tightened.
“Yes.””
The word landed harder than I expected.
“You knew there was a paternity test.””
“Yes.””
“You knew my mother had it.””
“Yes.””
“Who ordered it?””
He didn't answer.
“Who?””
“Your mother.””
The room seemed to shrink.
“My mother?””
Cole nodded.
“Why?””
“Because she wanted the truth.””
I laughed bitterly.
“The truth about what?””
He looked at my stomach.
“About Lily.””
My hand went protectively over my belly.
“She's my daughter.””
“She is.””
“Then why was a paternity test done?””
Cole hesitated.
“Because there was a question about who her father is.””
My chest tightened.
“What question?””
He came closer.
I stepped back.
“Don't.””
He stopped.
“Emma, I need you to hear me before you make any decisions.””
“I'm listening.””
He swallowed.
“The test wasn't done because your mother thought I was the father.””
My heart pounded.
“What does that mean?””
“It means she wasn't sure.””
“About you?””
“Yes.””
I stared at him.
Then at the blue box.
“What are you saying?””
Cole looked away.
“I wasn't the only man involved.””
The words barely registered.
“What?””
He rubbed his forehead.
“Before we got married…”
I shook my head.
“No.””
“Emma—”
“No. Don't do that.””
He looked at me.
“You're telling me I was with another man?””
“No.””
“Then who?””
“You were.””
I felt the room tilt.
“I don't understand.””
He stared at me like he was afraid to say the next sentence.
“You don't remember him.””
A cold wave moved through my body.
“I don't know what you're talking about.””
“You were drunk.””
“What?””
“Eight months ago.””
I shook my head.
“Eight months ago I was with you.””
“Not that night.””
“What night?””
He took a breath.
“The night before our anniversary party.””
I searched my memory.
A dinner.
Drinks.
A fight with Cole.
My mother had come over.
There had been a man there.
I remembered laughter.
A glass breaking.
Then nothing.
My stomach turned.
“Who was the man?””
Cole looked toward the window.
“I don't know his name.””
I stared at him.
“You expect me to believe that?””
“It's the truth.””
“You saw him?””
“Yes.””
“And you let me sleep with a stranger?””
“I wasn't there.””
“You just said you saw him.””
“After.””
My voice rose.
“After what?””
Cole flinched.
“After your mother called me.””
I stared.
“She said you'd been drinking too much.””
“What happened?””
“She asked me to come get you.””
“And?””
“You were asleep.””
“Where?””
He didn't answer.
“Where, Cole?””
He whispered, “At a hotel.””
My entire body went numb.
“No.””
“Emma—”
“No.””
I backed away until my hip hit the desk.
“You're lying.””
“I wish I were.””
“You're telling me my mother found me in a hotel with another man?””
“She found you there.””
“And you?””
“I came later.””
“Why didn't you tell me?””
His face twisted.
“Because you didn't remember.””
“So you decided to marry me and keep it secret?””
“We were already married.””
I stared at him.
That corrected something in my memory.
I had been married for two months when that anniversary party happened.
The dates were wrong.
The baby's conception window suddenly felt like a trap closing around me.
I looked down at the report.
Three months ago.
A paternity test.
Eight months ago.
A missing night.
My mother.
Cole.
The unknown man.
My hand pressed harder against my stomach.
“Who is he?””
Cole shook his head.
“I don't know.””
“You expect me to believe that after everything?””
“I never met him before that night.””
“You just said you saw him.””
“I saw his back.””
“That makes no sense.””
“It was dark.””
“You're lying.””
“I’m not.””
The words came out louder than he intended.
Then he lowered his voice.
“Emma, your mother paid someone to find him.””
My eyes narrowed.
“Someone?””
“A private investigator.””
“Did they find him?””
Cole nodded slowly.
“Yes.””
“Who?””
He didn't answer.
“Cole.””
“He refused to come forward.””
“Why?””
“He said if he contacted you, people would get hurt.””
“What people?””
“I don't know.””
“You're running out of excuses.””
He stepped forward.
“I'm not trying to make excuses.””
“Then tell me his name.””
Cole's eyes met mine.
“Daniel.””
The name meant nothing.
I had never known a Daniel.
“Last name?””
He looked away.
“Cole.””
“Mercer.””
My breath caught.
I knew that name.
Not personally.
From my father.
I remembered an old argument from years ago.
My father had stood in the kitchen shouting into the phone.
“Daniel Mercer will never get another dollar from me.””
I'd been sixteen.
I'd asked him who Daniel was.
He'd told me it was none of my business.
I never heard the name again.
Until tonight.
I stared at Cole.
“You knew this man before.””
He shook his head.
“Your father did.””
“Why?””
“I don't know.””
“That's not good enough.””
Cole walked to the desk and picked up the photograph I'd left partially exposed.
The one showing my mother meeting Daniel.
His expression changed when he saw it.
“You have that?””
“Who is he?””
Cole stared at the picture.
“I told you.””
“No.””
He swallowed.
“You didn't.””
“Then tell me now.””
His fingers tightened around the photograph.
“Daniel Mercer is your father's son.””
Everything inside me stopped.
“What?””
“Your father had another child.””
“No.””
“Emma—”
“My father never had another child.””
“He did.””
“With whom?””
“Your mother.””
I stared at him.
The room seemed to lose oxygen.
“That isn't possible.””
“It is.””
“My mother and my father were married for thirty-two years.””
“I know.””
“Then how?””
Cole looked at me with an expression I had never seen before.
Pity.
And fear.
“Daniel was born before they got married.””
I shook my head.
“Then why did my father hate him?””
Cole hesitated.
“Because your mother lied about who his father was.””
I felt sick.
“My mother's affair with Daniel's father?””
“No.””
Cole's voice dropped.
“Daniel isn't your mother's son.””
He pointed at the photograph.
“He's her brother.””
My breath stopped.
“Her brother?””
Cole nodded.
“Your maternal grandfather had another family.””
I stared at the picture again.
Daniel's face suddenly looked familiar.
The jaw.
The eyes.
The same narrow nose as my mother.
“Oh God.””
Cole looked at me.
“Your father found out years ago.””
“About Daniel?””
“Yes.””
“Why would that matter?””
“Because Daniel inherited something your father believed belonged to you.””
I looked at the key inside the blue box.
Then the motel card.
Then the paternity report.
Nothing fit.
Until I remembered the unknown woman.
*He knows what happened to your father.*
I looked at Cole.
“Where is Daniel now?””
He didn't answer.
“Where?””
Cole's phone began vibrating in his pocket.
He pulled it out.
His face changed when he saw the screen.
“Who's calling?””
He didn't speak.
“Cole.””
Slowly, he turned the phone toward me.
One name appeared.
*Daniel Mercer.*
May you like
And before either of us could say a word, a message came through.
*Stop looking for answers, Cole. She isn't your wife anymore. She's my sister's daughter.*
