Chapter 6
For the first time that night, my anger faltered under confusion.
“So the condition might not be mine at all?”
“That is what Dr. Halpern suspected.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me that?”
“Because we needed to confirm it.”
“Three years?”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“Three days.”
I froze.
“What happened after three days?”
My mother’s expression changed.
“I received your corrected results.”
“And?”
“You did not carry the variant.”
Relief should have come first.
Instead, something colder did.
“Then this entire thing was nothing.”
“No.”
Her answer came too quickly.
Cassandra’s eyes narrowed.
“What happened?”
Eleanor looked directly at me.
“The corrected sample raised another question.”
My stomach tightened.
“What question?”
My mother stood.
She crossed to her handbag and removed a thin folder.
Not large.
Not dramatic.
Just a folder.
She held it but did not give it to me yet.
“The clinic compared the newer sample with a stored reference from your father.”
I stared at her.
“Why?”
“To confirm the original identification problem.”
“And?”
Her eyes filled.
“Damon, your sample did not match your father’s.”
Nothing moved.
I heard Cassandra inhale.
“What do you mean?”
I already knew what she meant.
I just needed her to say it.
“Your father was not your biological father.”
The words did not strike like lightning.
They moved through me slowly.
Like cold water.
I sat down.
For the first time all night, I felt as if the room had tilted beneath me.
“My father raised me.”
“Yes.”
“He was there when I broke my arm.”
“Yes.”
“He taught me to drive.”
“Yes.”
“He made me work summers in the warehouse because he said no Prescott should run a company without knowing how boxes got loaded onto a truck.”
A tear slipped down my mother’s cheek.
“Yes.”
“He was my father.”
“Yes, Damon.”
Her voice broke.
“He was.”
I looked at the folder.
“Did he know?”
My mother closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
That hurt differently.
“How long?”
“From the beginning.”
I stood again.
I could not seem to stay still.
“Then why was this a secret?”
“Because that is what we chose.”
“We?”
“Your father and I.”
“Who was my biological father?”
Eleanor looked at Cassandra.
Then toward the sleeping twins.
She was stalling.
“Who?”
“A man I knew before I married your father.”
“Name.”
“Damon.”
“Name.”
She whispered it.
“Jonathan Vale.”
I knew the name.
Not personally.
But I knew it.
Everyone in our business world knew it.
Jonathan Vale had founded Vale Industries, one of the largest engineering companies in the western United States.
He had also died twelve years ago.
I stared at my mother.
“Jonathan Vale?”
“Yes.”
“Vale Industries?”
“Yes.”
I laughed under my breath.
“This is unbelievable.”
“I know.”
“Did he know?”
“No.”
“Are you certain?”
“As certain as I can be.”
Cassandra rose quietly.
“Why did this affect the pregnancy?”
My mother looked grateful for the practical question.
“Because Jonathan’s medical history was different. Once we understood Damon’s biological parentage, Dr. Halpern said we needed information from the Vale family before we could rule out other inherited concerns.”
I turned on her.
“And that justified keeping my children from me?”
“No.”
The word was immediate.
“No, Damon. Nothing justifies what happened afterward.”
“Then explain what happened afterward.”
“I asked Miles for forty-eight hours.”
I stared at her.
“Forty-eight.”
“Yes.”
“To confirm the medical information and decide how to tell you the truth about your father.”
“But Miles kept going.”
My mother’s face hardened with something close to pain.
“I did not know that.”
Cassandra looked doubtful.
“You never asked?”
“I did. Two days later, I told Miles he could tell Damon everything.”
I felt my heartbeat slow.
“What did he say?”
“That he already had.”
Silence.
Cassandra and I looked at each other.
My mother continued.
“He told me Damon knew about the pregnancy and needed time.”
Cassandra’s face drained of color.
“That’s almost exactly what he told me.”
“Yes.”
I looked at my mother.
“And you believed him?”
“Miles had been beside you for years. I had no reason not to.”
“Did you ever ask me?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Her voice became smaller.
“Because I was ashamed.”
“Of what?”
“Of the secret about your father.”
She looked directly at me now.
“I kept waiting for the right moment. Then days became weeks. Every time I saw you, I thought, Tonight. I will tell him tonight.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No.”
“And Cassandra?”
“I thought you had chosen not to be involved.”
I shook my head.
“You thought I knew I had children somewhere and simply went on with my life?”
My mother wiped a tear away.
“I didn’t understand it.”
“That is not an answer.”
“I know.”
She pressed her lips together.
“I thought perhaps you were more hurt by the breakup than you admitted. I thought perhaps you and Cassandra had spoken privately and agreed on something I did not understand.”
Cassandra stared at her.
“Why would you think that?”
“Because Miles told me you had.”
The room went silent again.
Not shocked.
Focused.
A pattern was emerging.
A terrible, quiet pattern.
Miles had told Cassandra that I knew.
Miles had told my mother that I knew.
May you like
Miles had told my mother that Cassandra and I had spoken.
He had placed himself between every person who could have compared the truth.
