Chapter 3 - THE PATERNITY REPORT
Vanessa came to the hospital disguised beneath a baseball cap and oversized sunglasses.
Rachel hated the idea.
I insisted.
If Vanessa was lying, I wanted to see it in person.
If she wasn’t, Daniel had made a catastrophic mistake.
She entered my room at 1:05 P.M.
Twenty-eight.
Blonde.
Beautiful in the polished way Daniel had always admired.
But frightened.
That surprised me.
She looked at Lily before she looked at me.
“She’s beautiful.”
“Thank you.”
The words felt surreal.
My husband’s mistress complimenting my newborn while my divorce papers sat inside a legal folder beside my bed.
Vanessa placed an envelope on the table.
“I didn’t know you existed when we started.”
I laughed once.
“You consulted for Whitmore Development.”
“Through an outside firm. Daniel told me you were separated.”
Rachel interrupted.
“When did the relationship become sexual?”
Vanessa’s face reddened.
“Seven months ago.”
Exactly when Daniel’s plan began.
I opened the envelope.
PATERNITY PROBABILITY:
0.00%.
Daniel Whitmore was not the biological father.
I looked up.
“Who is?”
Vanessa began crying.
“I don’t know.”
That answer almost made me laugh.
Then she clarified.
“I mean, I know who it could be. My ex. We broke up around the same time.”
“Does Daniel know?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because Dr. Evans called me before the lab portal released the result.”
My skin prickled.
“What did he say?”
“That the test was inconclusive and needed repeating.”
Rachel took the report.
“This isn’t inconclusive.”
“I know.”
Vanessa wiped her face.
“Then the online result disappeared.”
Of course it did.
The doctor helping Daniel fabricate my psychiatric diagnosis was also manipulating Vanessa’s paternity records.
“Why?”
I asked.
Vanessa looked ashamed.
“Daniel promised to marry me if I gave him a son.”
There it was.
The prize he had already announced.
Except the child was not his.
“Did he give you money?”
She nodded.
“An apartment.”
“And consulting payments?”
Her eyes widened.
“I did consulting work.”
“Worth $1.2 million?”
Her face drained.
“What?”
She genuinely did not know.
I believed her.
Rachel did too.
Vanessa had received about $180,000 legitimately.
The remaining million had moved through her company and immediately onward.
“Where?” Rachel asked.
Vanessa shook her head.
“My accountant handles company accounts.”
“Name?”
“Peter Lawson.”
I knew Peter.
Daniel’s college roommate.
Another piece clicked.
Vanessa was not the destination.
She was camouflage.
Rachel asked permission to subpoena her business records if litigation began.
Vanessa nodded.
Then her phone buzzed.
Daniel.
WHERE ARE YOU?
Her face tightened.
I took Lily into my arms.
“Tell him you’re at the salon.”
Vanessa stared at me.
“You’re helping me lie to your husband?”
“No.”
I looked directly at her.
“I’m helping us preserve evidence from the man lying to both of us.”
She typed the message.
Then Rachel asked the question I had been avoiding.
“Why come here?”
Vanessa looked at me.
“Because Daniel told me last night that after you signed everything, you were going away for treatment.”
My stomach turned.
“He said you were dangerous.”
“To whom?”
Vanessa looked at Lily.
“To her.”
I held my daughter tighter.
“He told you I would hurt my own baby?”
“Yes.”
Then she whispered:
“He also told me your father had been mentally unstable before he died.”
That made no sense.
My father had died from pancreatic cancer.
Rachel looked at me sharply.
“What exactly did Daniel say?”
Vanessa swallowed.
“He said your father hid money because he was paranoid.”
My breathing slowed.
Dad had hidden systems.
Not money.
Unless Daniel knew something I didn’t.
Vanessa reached into her purse.
“There’s one more thing.”
She handed me a photograph she had taken inside Daniel’s study.
A safe stood open behind his desk.
Inside were folders.
One had my father’s name.
EDWARD WHITMORE - PRIVATE TRUST.
I stared at it.
Dad never had a private trust.
May you like
At least none I had ever been told about.
And Daniel had somehow found it before I did.
