Chapter 6 - THE NAME MY MOTHER NEVER SPOKE
I had never questioned who my father was.
His name was Michael Sterling.
He died in a private plane crash when I was four.
That was the story printed in newspapers.
The story my mother told.
The story my grandmother never contradicted.
Until Nathaniel Cole suggested otherwise.
I turned toward Charles.
“Who was my biological father?”
Charles looked genuinely shaken.
“Don’t listen to him.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
Carter stood beside me.
“Dad.”
Charles snapped, “Stay out of this.”
Carter laughed bitterly.
“I think I’ve been out of enough things tonight.”
Richard Vance looked toward Charles.
“You should tell her.”
I turned to him.
“You know too?”
“Parts.”
“Then somebody starts talking now.”
Charles sat heavily in a chair.
For once, the ruthless billionaire founder looked old.
“Your mother met Michael Sterling when she was twenty-three.”
“I know.”
“She married him quickly.”
“I know that too.”
Charles rubbed his forehead.
“But before Michael, there was someone else.”
I already knew the answer.
I hated that I knew it.
“Nathaniel.”
Charles looked up.
Silence confirmed it.
Carter whispered, “Jesus.”
My chest tightened.
“No.”
Richard spoke gently.
“Serena—”
“No.”
I walked away from them.
Nathaniel Cole.
The man who had attended family dinners.
The man who had kissed my cheek at my wedding.
The man currently being hunted by federal agents.
“My mother had an affair with Nathaniel?”
“No,” Charles said. “It was before Michael.”
“Was Nathaniel my father?”
Charles hesitated.
“That was what he believed.”
I looked at him.
“Believed?”
“Your mother insisted Michael was your father.”
“And my grandmother?”
“She never discussed it.”
Richard shook his head.
“That isn’t entirely true.”
Charles glared at him.
Richard continued.
“Eleanor ordered a private paternity test.”
I stared.
“When?”
“When you were an infant.”
My hands went cold.
“And?”
Richard looked uncomfortable.
“I never saw the result.”
Charles stood.
“Neither did I.”
“Who did?”
Richard answered.
“Eleanor.”
Of course.
Another secret buried by my grandmother.
Agent Reeves approached.
“We need to move. Cole knows we’re tracing his call.”
I shook my head.
“He wants me at the townhouse.”
“You’re not going alone.”
“He specifically said—”
“He’s a federal fugitive suspected of financial crimes. You’re not meeting him without protection.”
I nodded.
For the first time that night, Carter stepped close but did not touch me.
“Serena.”
I looked at him.
His face was bruised from his father’s slap.
His arrogance was gone.
“I know I have no right to ask you for anything.”
“You’re correct.”
He flinched.
“But don’t go into that house without protection.”
For one second, I saw the man I had once loved.
Then my phone vibrated.
A message.
Nathaniel.
A photograph.
It showed the inside of my grandmother’s townhouse library.
On the center table sat the missing red folder.
Beside it was another object.
A small silver baby bracelet.
My baby bracelet.
I had not seen it since childhood.
Another message appeared.
Eleanor lied to you about everything.
Then a final photograph arrived.
It showed an old DNA report.
Most of the page was hidden beneath Nathaniel’s hand.
But one line was visible.
Probability of paternity: 0.00%.
May you like
Nathaniel Cole was not my father.
And according to the handwritten note beside the result, neither was Michael Sterling.
