Chapter 3 - THE SIGNATURE HE NEVER WROTE
Julian Mercer could recognize his own signature.
The one on Anna Vale’s paternity form was almost perfect.
Almost.
“That loop is wrong,” he said.
We were inside his Manhattan penthouse by two in the morning.
I sat at the edge of a leather chair wearing one of his housekeeper’s spare sweaters because my apartment was no longer safe.
Julian placed two documents beside each other.
Real signature.
Forged signature.
“They copied it from something.”
“Can someone use that to claim you fathered a child?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
His mouth hardened.
“Money.”
The Mercer family trust contained a clause for biological heirs.
A legitimate child could eventually inherit controlling shares worth hundreds of millions.
“But Sloane’s fake pregnancy was supposed to create the same thing,” I said.
“Exactly.”
“Then why create two babies?”
Julian looked at me.
“That is what worries me.”
Mateo entered.
“We found Anna Vale.”
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Queens.”
Julian stood.
“I’m coming.”
I stood too.
“No.”
He looked at me.
“No?”
“If these people searched my apartment, I’m already involved.”
“Tess.”
“You need someone who heard Sloane.”
“You are a hotel maid.”
“And apparently better at noticing things than your security team.”
Mateo looked away to hide a smile.
Julian stared at me.
Then sighed.
“Stay behind us.”
Anna Vale lived in a small apartment above a laundromat.
She was twenty-four.
Seven months pregnant.
Terrified when she saw Julian.
“I didn’t do anything.”
Julian remained in the doorway.
“I’m not here to hurt you.”
She laughed bitterly.
“That’s what Brynn said.”
My stomach tightened.
“You know Brynn?”
Anna looked at me.
“She hired me.”
“For what?”
Anna began crying.
“To carry a baby.”
Julian went still.
“Whose baby?”
“I don’t know.”
She explained that Brynn had approached her through a private fertility agency.
The contract promised two hundred thousand dollars.
Anna believed she was acting as a surrogate for a wealthy couple who wanted privacy.
Then the clinic disappeared.
Payments stopped.
“And my name?” Julian asked.
Anna shook her head.
“I didn’t know it was on anything until the hospital showed me.”
“Did anyone tell you who the intended parents were?”
“Sloane.”
Julian’s face turned cold.
“She visited twice.”
“What did she say?”
“That after delivery I would sign away my rights.”
“To her?”
“Yes.”
“And me?”
“She said you already agreed.”
Julian looked toward the window.
“The embryo.”
Anna swallowed.
“They told me it was created from the parents’ genetic material.”
“Did anyone ever identify them?”
“No.”
Mateo stepped closer.
“We can test fetal DNA.”
Anna hesitated.
Then nodded.
“Do it.”
A discreet physician collected the sample.
The preliminary results came the next afternoon.
Julian was not the father.
Sloane was not the mother.
We stared at the report.
“Then whose baby is she carrying?” I asked.
Mateo placed another page on the table.
“We found a genetic match.”
Julian read the name.
All color left his face.
I leaned closer.
The biological father was:
GABRIEL MERCER.
May you like
Julian whispered:
“My brother has been dead for eight years.”
