PART 3

   I took one step toward her.

“You have ten seconds.”

She shook her head, tears beginning to fill her eyes.

“You don’t understand.”

“No,” I said quietly. “I understand perfectly.”

I held up the report.

“My son isn’t their father.”

Emily covered her mouth.

“And according to this, someone from Jason’s family is.”

Her eyes closed.

That was confirmation enough.

But I needed the name.

I needed to hear it from her.

“Who?”

She opened her eyes.

And then she said something that made my entire body go cold.

“It wasn’t Jason.”

I stared at her.

“I know it wasn’t Jason.”

“No.” She shook her head quickly. “That’s not what I mean.” She stepped inside and quietly closed the bedroom door behind her.

Then she whispered:

“It wasn’t a stranger.”

My heart began pounding.

“Emily.”

“It was someone you know.”

I felt the blood drain from my face.

“Who?”

She looked directly into my eyes.

And for the first time since I had known her, I saw genuine fear in her face.

“Your husband’s brother.” I stopped breathing.

My husband’s brother.

Thomas.

I hadn’t seen Thomas in nearly twenty years.

He had disappeared from our lives after my husband left me. Back then, I had blamed him for encouraging my husband to walk away. Thomas had always been reckless, always borrowing money, always chasing women, always appearing at family gatherings with some new story and some new excuse.

But he was family.

My husband’s younger brother.

My son’s uncle.

I lowered the DNA report.

“No.”

Emily started crying.

“Yes.”

“No.”

“It happened before Jason and I were married.”

I stared at her.

“Then how do you explain the girls?”

Emily wiped her cheeks.

“I didn’t know I was pregnant when I married Jason.”

My stomach twisted.

“You didn’t know?”

“I thought Chloe was Jason’s.”

“And Sophie?”

Emily hesitated.

“I found out later.”

I felt something inside me crack.

“Later?”

She nodded.

“After Chloe was born, I started noticing things. She didn’t look like Jason. She didn’t even look like me in some ways. Then Sophie was born, and I became terrified.”

I walked toward the window.

Outside, the backyard looked exactly as it always had.

The little wooden swing where Chloe used to play.

The flower bed where Sophie once buried a plastic dinosaur.

The old maple tree Jason had planted when he was twelve.

Everything looked normal.

But nothing was normal anymore.

“You knew,” I whispered.

Emily began sobbing.

“I suspected.”

“You knew enough to hide it.”

“I was scared.”

“You let my son raise two children who weren’t his.”

“I loved him.”

“You loved him?”

My voice finally rose.

“You loved him so much that you let him spend his entire life believing those girls were his?” Emily flinched.

“I was going to tell him.”

“When?”

She said nothing.

“When they were eighteen?”

Still nothing.

“When they graduated college?”

She looked down.

“When they got married?”

She began crying harder.

I shook my head.

“You weren’t going to tell him.”

“I was going to tell him eventually.”

“No.”

I pointed toward the door.

“You were going to take this secret to your grave.”

Emily didn’t deny it.

And somehow that silence hurt more than anything she could have said.

I sat on the edge of the bed.

My legs suddenly felt weak.

“Why Thomas?”

Emily looked at me.

“I don’t know.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I am not lying.”

“Then tell me exactly what happened.”

She wiped her face with both hands.

“It was one night.”

“When?”

“Before Jason and I were married.”

“You were dating Jason?”

“Yes.”

“And Thomas?”

She looked away. “I barely knew him.”

I laughed bitterly.

“You barely knew him?”

“I met him a few times.”

“Where?” “At your house.”

My heart stopped.

“At my house?”

She nodded.

“Thomas came to stay with you one weekend. Jason was working late. I came over because I was helping you prepare for the engagement dinner.”

I remembered that weekend.

I remembered it immediately.

The blue dress.

The roast chicken.

The bottle of wine Thomas brought.

Jason had worked a double shift.

Emily had stayed late.

I remembered telling her to sleep in the guest room because it was too late for her to drive home.

I remembered going to bed.

I remembered hearing voices downstairs.

I remembered Thomas laughing.

I had never imagined anything beyond that.

“Oh my God.”

Emily covered her face.

“I made the worst mistake of my life.”

I stared at her.

“Did Thomas know?”

She slowly lowered her hands.

“Yes.”

That single word seemed to echo inside my skull.

“He knew?”

“He knew Chloe might be his.”

“Might?”

“He said there was no way to be certain.”

“And when Sophie was born?”

“He knew.”

I stood again.

“You mean Thomas knew those girls might be his, and he never said anything?”

“He told me he didn’t want to destroy Jason’s life.”

I laughed without humor.

“Destroy Jason’s life?”

I could barely contain myself. “He watched my son become a father.”

Emily cried silently.

“He watched Jason buy those girls everything they needed.”

“He never asked me for anything.”

“He didn’t need to.”

I looked at her.

“He had something Jason could never buy.”

“What?”

“The truth.”

She looked down.

I walked toward the door. “Where is Thomas now?”

Emily froze.

“I don’t know.”

“You’re lying.”

“I haven’t spoken to him in years.”

“Then how did he know about the girls?”

“I told him.”

“When?”

“After Sophie was born.”

I stared at her.

“You kept in contact with him.”

“For a while.”

“How long?”

She hesitated. “Seven years.”

Seven years.

My hands began trembling.

“You saw him for seven years?”

“Not regularly.”

“But enough.”

“Yes.”

I felt sick.

All those birthdays.

All those Christmas mornings.

All those family dinners.

All those photographs.

And somewhere outside the frame was the truth.

The girls had been growing up surrounded by people who knew more than Jason did.

I looked at the DNA report again.

“There has to be another explanation.”

“There isn’t.”

“What exactly did the laboratory tell you?”

Emily looked confused.

“I don’t know.”

“This report isn’t a normal paternity report.”

She looked at the papers.

“What do you mean?”

I pointed to the second page.

“It says they matched a direct male relative from the paternal line.”

Emily’s face changed.

“I didn’t know that.”

“Neither did I.”

I picked up my phone.

“I need to call the laboratory.”

Emily immediately grabbed my wrist.

“No.”

I stared at her hand.

“Let go.”

“Please.”

“Let go.”

She released me.

“Don’t call them yet.”

“Why?”

“Because there is something else you don’t know.”

I felt the room becoming colder.

“What?”

Emily took a shaky breath.

“When I found out Thomas might be their father, I confronted him.”

“And?” “He denied it.”

I frowned.

“What?”

“He told me he wasn’t the father.”

“But you said—”

“I know what I said.”

She reached into her purse.

Her fingers shook as she pulled out an old photograph.

She handed it to me.

I looked down.

The picture showed Thomas standing beside a younger woman.

Behind them was a hospital.

And in Thomas’s arms was a newborn baby.

On the back, someone had written a date.

March 14, 2009.

I stared at it.

“That was the year Chloe was born.”

Emily nodded. “Thomas had another child.”

I looked up.

“What?”

“A son.”

My head spun.

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know.”

“Emily.”

“He died.”

My mouth went dry.

“When?”

“Three days after he was born.” I looked back at the photograph.

Thomas was smiling in it.

But the smile didn’t look happy.

It looked broken.

“Why are you showing me this?”

“Because Thomas told me something that night.”

“What?”

Emily’s voice dropped to a whisper.

“He said if I ever tried to prove he was Chloe’s father, I would regret it.”

A chill moved through me.

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“You never asked?”

“I was afraid.”

“You were afraid of Thomas?”

She nodded.

“He had a side to him I had never seen before.”

I studied the photograph.

There was something wrong.

Something I couldn’t explain.

I turned it over again.

The handwriting looked familiar.

Very familiar.

I looked at Emily.

“Who wrote this?”

“I don’t know.” I stared at the date.

March 14.

Then I remembered.

My son had been at the hospital that day.

I remembered because Jason had called me at three in the morning.

“Mom, she’s here.”

I had driven through the rain to the hospital.

I remembered holding newborn Chloe.

I remembered Jason crying.

I remembered him whispering:

“She’s perfect.”

I had believed that moment was the beginning of his life as a father.

Now I wondered if it had been the beginning of a lie.

My phone suddenly rang.

Jason.

I froze.

Emily looked at the screen.

Neither of us spoke.

The phone rang again.

And again.

Finally, I answered.

“Hello?”

“Mom?”

His voice sounded normal.

Warm.

Unaware.

“Yeah, sweetheart.”

“Are you okay?” I looked at Emily.

She was crying silently.

“I’m fine.”

“You sound strange.”

“I’m just tired.”

There was a pause.

Then Jason said:

“Mom, I need you to do something for me.”

“What?”

“I need you to come to the house tonight.”

I frowned.

“Why?”

“I found something.”

My stomach tightened.

“What did you find?”

Another pause.

Then Jason whispered:

“Dad’s old box.”

My heart stopped.

Jason’s father had been gone for decades.

“What about it?”

“I opened it.”

“And?”

“I found letters.”

“What letters?”

His breathing became uneven.

“Letters addressed to you.”

I looked at Emily.

Her face had gone completely white.

Jason continued.

“And Mom…”

“Yes?”

“One of them has Thomas’s name on it.”

The phone slipped slightly in my hand.

I whispered:

“What does it say?”

“I haven’t read it yet.”

“Don’t.”

“What?”

“Don’t read anything until I get there.”

“Why?”

I looked at Emily.

Because suddenly I understood something.

The DNA test wasn’t the beginning of this story.

It was the beginning of the truth finally catching up with all of us.

“Just wait for me,” I said.

Jason agreed.

Before hanging up, he said one last thing.

“Mom?”

“Yes?”

“There’s something else.”

“What?”

“I think Dad knew.” The call ended.

I stood completely still.

Emily was staring at me.

“What did he say?”

I looked at her.

“Jason thinks his father knew.”

Emily’s eyes filled with terror.

Then she whispered:

“Eleanor… you need to understand something.”

“What?”

“Thomas wasn’t the only person who knew.”

I felt my blood turn cold.

“Who else?”

Emily looked toward the bedroom door.

Then she whispered a name I had never expected to hear.

“Your husband.”

I couldn’t move.

My husband had been gone for twenty-four years.

Dead for nineteen.

And suddenly I understood that the secrets destroying my family had begun long before Jason ever met Emily.

I grabbed my coat.

Emily stood.

“Where are you going?”

“To Jason.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“No.”

“Eleanor—”

“You’ve hidden enough from my son.”

She stopped.

I opened the bedroom door.

Then I turned back.

“But you’re coming tomorrow.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re going to tell Jason everything.”

Emily began crying again.

“And if I refuse?”

I looked directly at her.

“Then I will.”

I walked downstairs alone.

But before I reached the front door, my phone buzzed.

Unknown number.

One message.

Stop looking for the truth.

I stared at the screen.

A second message appeared.

You have no idea what happened to your son.

And then a third.

Ask him about the night he was born.

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