“You’re a terrible liar.”
“I know.”
“Who was in my apartment?”
“I don’t know.”
“And your mother?”
“I don’t know.”
“You seem to be saying that a lot tonight.”
“I’ve noticed.”
She reached for my hand.
The movement surprised both of us.
For a moment, her fingers rested against mine.
Then she held on.
Not as a wife.
Not even as someone who trusted me.
As someone afraid of being alone.
I closed my hand around hers.
Marco’s phone vibrated.
He read the message.
“Caleb found something.”
“What?”
“A camera across the street caught the building entrance.”
He turned his screen toward us.
The video was grainy.
Black and white.
A timestamp glowed in the corner.
9:41 p.m.
My mother’s black sedan stopped beside the curb.
A woman stepped out.
Even from the distant angle, I recognized Vivienne’s posture.
She entered the building.
At 9:48, another car arrived.
A man emerged.
Dark jacket.
Broad shoulders.
He walked with a slight stiffness in his left leg.
Marco watched the screen.
I watched Marco.
The resemblance was unsettling.
But not perfect.
“That’s not you,” I said.
“No.”
The man reached the building entrance.
For half a second, he turned toward the camera.
The image blurred.
Then froze.
Marco enlarged the frame.
The man’s face became a collection of gray pixels.
Still, one detail was visible.
A thin white scar beneath the right eye.
Marco sat down.
Actually sat down.
I had never seen him react that way to anything.
“Who is he?” I asked.
Marco did not answer.
“Marco.”
He looked at me.
“My brother.”
I stared at him.
“You don’t have a brother.”
“That’s what I was told.”
Elena’s fingers tightened around mine.
Marco looked back at the frozen image.
“My mother said he died when we were children.”
I felt the night expand around us.
Every answer had become another question.
Daniel.
My father.
My mother.
A false Marco.
Elena’s letter.
The threat that destroyed my marriage.
“What was his name?” I asked.
Marco’s eyes remained on the screen.
“Gabriel.”
A knock sounded at the hospital door.
All three of us turned.
Dr. Bennett entered.
She held a file in her hands.
The expression on her face was serious but composed.
“Mr. Mercer, Ms. Ross, I’m sorry to interrupt.”
“What happened?” I asked.
“Nothing has happened.”
She walked closer to Elena.
“The lab repeated one of your tests because the first result didn’t make sense.”
Elena looked at me.
“What test?”
Dr. Bennett opened the file.
“Your blood typing.”
Elena frowned.
“I know my blood type.”
“Yes. That’s why we repeated it.”
The doctor placed the file on the table.
“There is another issue.”
My heart started pounding.
“The baby?”
“The baby appears stable.”
I exhaled.
Dr. Bennett looked from Elena to me.
“When you arrived, Ms. Ross, you said Luke Mercer was the father.”
Elena’s face hardened.
“He is.”
“I am not questioning you.”
“Then what are you saying?”
The doctor hesitated.
“I reviewed an older medical record transferred from the clinic listed in your insurance history.”
“What clinic?”
“Mercer Family Medical.”
I had never heard of it.
Neither had Elena.
Dr. Bennett saw our confusion.
“According to the record, Ms. Ross underwent genetic screening there eight months ago.”
Elena’s hand went cold in mine.
“No, I didn’t.”
“That’s what I suspected.”
Dr. Bennett removed a printed page.
“The file includes your name, date of birth, and previous address. But there are inconsistencies.”
“What kind?” I asked.
“Someone created a medical record using Ms. Ross’s identity.”
Marco stood.
“Why?”
The doctor looked at him, then at us.
“I don’t know.”
She turned the page around.
At the bottom was a handwritten notation.
I leaned closer.
Two names.
Two dates.
And a series of numbers.
My name appeared first.
LUKE SAMUEL MERCER.
Below it was a second name.
ELENA MARIE ROSS.
Between them was a typed heading.
GENETIC COMPATIBILITY MATCH.
The room became painfully quiet.
Elena stared at the paper.
“What does that mean?”
Dr. Bennett’s voice was careful.
