Chapter 13 - THE NAME ON MY BIRTH CERTIFICATE
I walked out of Dennis Manufacturing without speaking to anyone.
Reporters shouted.
Dad followed me.
“Finnley.”
I kept walking.
“Finnley, please.”
I stopped near the parking garage.
“Are you my father?”
He looked devastated.
“Yes.”
“That wasn't my question.”
“I raised you.”
“That's still not my question.”
Dad closed his eyes.
“No.”
The word hurt more than I expected.
Not because DNA changed twenty-six years of memory.
But because everyone seemed to have known something about my life except me.
“Who?”
“I don't know for certain.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“Evelyn never told me.”
Dad explained they met when Mom was already ten weeks pregnant.
She had recently ended a relationship with a married man.
“She wanted to raise you alone.”
“And you married her.”
“I loved her.”
“Did you adopt me?”
“Yes.”
“Why does my birth certificate say Camden Dennis?”
“Legal adoption when you were six months old.”
I sat on the concrete barrier.
“Did Hale know?”
Dad's face tightened.
“I think so.”
“Then who was the man?”
“Evelyn called him Robert.”
My heart stopped.
“No.”
“Finnley—”
“No.”
Robert Hale.
Dad quickly continued.
“I never knew the surname.”
But the implication was unbearable.
Could Judge Hale be my biological father?
The man who framed me?
Sent me to prison?
Possibly killed my mother?
Nora ordered a DNA comparison.
Hale's DNA existed in federal databases because of a security clearance.
The answer came within hours.
Not a match.
I felt relief so strong my knees weakened.
But another familial result appeared.
Partial genetic relationship.
My biological father was related to Hale.
A brother.
Hale had one older brother.
Jonathan Hale.
He died twenty-seven years ago.
Officially in a boating accident.
Before I was born.
Hannah searched archived records.
Jonathan had been a financial investigator for the state attorney general.
And he had been investigating Dennis Manufacturing.
Dad stared at the screen.
“Evelyn never told me.”
The truth emerged from Mom's old files.
Jonathan Hale and Evelyn met during the environmental investigation.
They began a relationship.
Jonathan discovered his younger brother Robert was secretly taking money from companies to bury investigations.
He planned to expose him.
Then Jonathan died.
Mom became pregnant.
She believed Robert had arranged Jonathan's death.
That explained everything.
Robert Hale didn't hate me because of Dennis Manufacturing.
He hated what I represented.
His brother's surviving son.
A potential heir.
A living connection to the first person who tried to expose him.
Nora found another bombshell.
Jonathan Hale's father had created a family trust.
If Jonathan died without children, his assets transferred to Robert.
But if Jonathan had a biological child, that child inherited Jonathan's share.
Worth approximately sixty-four million dollars today.
Hale had inherited money that legally belonged to me.
Now we finally understood why he had tracked Mom for decades.
Why he wanted me discredited.
Why prison wasn't enough.
If my paternity ever became public, Hale could lose tens of millions and expose decades of fraud.
Dad looked at me.
“You are still my son.”
I nodded slowly.
“I know.”
And I meant it.
Biology didn't erase who taught me to ride a bicycle.
Who stayed awake when I had pneumonia.
Who sat through every terrible school concert.
Camden Dennis was my father.
But Jonathan Hale was part of the truth.
And Robert had spent my entire life trying to bury it.
Hale's private jet was located in Mexico.
But Hale himself wasn't aboard.
He had switched aircraft.
No one knew where he was.
Then Reagan called me.
For the first time.
I almost didn't answer.
“Finnley.”
“What do you want?”
“Protection.”
I laughed.
“You framed me.”
“I know.”
“You helped drug my father.”
“I know.”
“You lied about his death.”
“I know.”
“You planted evidence.”
Her voice cracked.
“I know.”
“And now you want me to help you?”
“Robert is going to kill Carter.”
That silenced me.
“Where is he?”
“I don't know.”
“Why Carter?”
“Because Carter copied something.”
“What?”
“Hale's private account ledger.”
“Where?”
“Carter hid it.”
“Then find him.”
“I can't.”
Reagan began crying.
I had never heard her cry.
“Robert called me twenty minutes ago. He said Carter has until midnight.”
“Until midnight to do what?”
“Return the drive.”
Nora traced Reagan's phone.
She was still at the Silver Lake house.
We drove there.
She looked completely different.
No makeup.
Hair unbrushed.
Terrified.
“I didn't know it would become this,” she said.
“What did you think framing me would become?”
“I thought you'd get probation.”
I stared at her.
“Hale promised.”
“And you believed him?”
“I was stupid.”
“No.”
My voice hardened.
“You were cruel.”
She accepted it.
Then she gave me Carter's childhood notebook.
“He uses the same hiding method for everything.”
Inside were numbers.
Places.
Codes.
Nora recognized one.
A marina slip number.
Marina del Rey.
We rushed there.
Carter's old sailboat was still registered under a friend's name.
Inside the cabin, we found blood.
A broken phone.
No Carter.
Then Dad noticed the navigation screen.
One destination entered recently.
CATALINA ISLAND.
Hannah called the Coast Guard.
Before we could leave, Reagan's phone rang.
Hale.
She answered on speaker.
“Robert.”
“Did Finnley come?”
Her eyes widened.
He knew.
“You always were predictable, Reagan.”
“What do you want?”
“My drive.”
“I don't have it.”
“Your son does.”
“Where is Carter?”
A pause.
Then we heard Carter screaming.
Reagan covered her mouth.
Hale spoke calmly.
“Bring Finnley to Catalina.”
I stepped toward the phone.
“What do you want with me?”
Hale laughed.
“Twenty-seven years ago, your biological father tried to destroy me.”
May you like
His voice became cold.
“I'd like his son to watch me win.”
