Chapter 12 - The DNA They Collected Six Years Ago
We spent the entire night reconstructing the timeline.
Six years ago.
My accident.
Mara's pregnancy.
The hospital.
My father's visit.
My disappearance.
The boys' birth.
My mother's death.
Everything connected.
But one detail didn't.
My DNA.
I had never given my family a DNA sample.
Not voluntarily.
Daniel opened an old medical file.
"Your blood was taken after the accident."
I stared.
"Of course."
"But here's the problem."
He pointed to the laboratory.
"The blood was transferred."
"Where?"
"St. Vincent's."
Mara looked up.
"The hospital where the boys were born."
I felt sick.
"So my father had my DNA."
"Yes."
"Why?"
Daniel looked at the files.
"Because he knew about the pregnancy."
"But how?"
Mara suddenly went pale.
She remembered.
"Adrian."
"What?"
"The night before the accident."
"What happened?"
"You came to my apartment."
"I don't remember."
"You told me you'd spoken to your grandfather."
"What did I say?"
"That he knew about us."
My stomach tightened.
"Why?"
"You said he'd asked whether we were planning to have children."
I remembered.
A vague conversation.
A strange question.
My grandfather had once asked me whether I intended to have heirs.
I thought it was business.
It wasn't.
Mara continued.
"You were scared."
"Why?"
"You said your grandfather told you something was wrong with the family trust."
I stared at her.
"What?"
"He said the trust was tied to blood."
Daniel nodded.
"That's it."
He spread the documents across the table.
"The trust was written so that control depended on direct male descendants."
"And my grandfather knew Mara was pregnant."
"Yes."
"But why would he want to hide the boys?"
Daniel looked at me.
"Because your grandfather wasn't the only person who knew about the trust."
I frowned.
"Who else?"
"Your mother."
My mother's death.
The ledger.
The blue box.
Everything.
Then Sloane walked into the room.
"I found something."
She put a photograph on the table.
It showed my mother with four babies.
I stared.
"Where did you get this?"
"From my father's files."
Mara picked it up.
"When was this taken?"
"Six years ago."
My mother was alive.
She had seen the boys.
I looked at Daniel.
"Did she know them?"
He nodded.
"She was the one who protected them."
My heart broke.
My mother had known I was a father.
She had known Mara.
She had known the boys.
And she had tried to protect them.
Then why hadn't she told me?
Because she was afraid.
The next photograph answered why.
It showed my father standing behind her.
Holding a gun.
I froze.
Mara whispered:
"He threatened her."
Daniel nodded.
"He threatened everyone."
I stared at the photograph.
My father had been controlling the family for years.
But my grandfather had controlled him.
Then who controlled my grandfather?
A name appeared in the old ledger.
Evelyn Whitmore.
My grandmother.
She had died before I was born.
I looked confused.
"She's dead."
Daniel nodded.
"Yes."
"Then why is her signature here?"
Nobody answered.
I picked up the document.
The signature was dated three years after her death.
Forgery.
But by whom?
Then I saw something else.
A handwritten note in the margin.
The fourth child must remain unknown.
I looked at Owen.
He was playing quietly with a toy car.
My chest tightened.
"Why Owen?"
Daniel didn't answer.
I walked toward him.
"Owen."
He looked up.
"Yes, Dad?"
"Where did you get that?"
He held up the toy car.
"Grandma gave it to me."
Mara frowned.
"Which grandma?"
Owen pointed toward the hallway.
"The one who comes at night."
Every adult in the room froze.
Mara whispered:
"Owen..."
He smiled.
"She says she loves us."
I looked at Daniel.
"Who is he talking about?"
Daniel's face had gone white.
"Your mother."
I shook my head.
"My mother is dead."
Daniel stared at Owen.
Then at me.
"Maybe."
May you like
He paused.
"Maybe she isn't."
