Chapter 2 - Grant Had Ordered the Test Quietly
Grant ended the call without asking the doctor to explain the result in front of everyone.
“Send everything to my attorney.”
Then he hung up.
Margaret immediately spoke.
“Whatever that is, it has nothing to do with tonight.”
Grant looked at her.
He had known his mother his entire life.
Known every version of her anger.
The clipped one she used with staff.
The theatrical one she used with relatives.
The wounded one she used when someone challenged her authority.
This was different.
Her eyes kept drifting toward Ethan.
Not Ruth.
Not the phone.
Ethan.
Grant noticed.
“Ruth.”
She looked up.
Red wine dripped from the ends of her brown hair onto the marble.
“Take Ethan into my study.”
Margaret snapped:
“He doesn’t belong in there.”
Grant turned toward her.
“One more word about where that child belongs and you leave this house tonight.”
Silence.
Ruth helped Ethan stand.
The backpack remained against him, but the decorative chain had fallen loose onto the floor. Ruth removed the backpack carefully and checked Ethan’s shoulders and neck herself.
No injury from the chain.
Only fear.
Grant crouched.
“Are you hurt?”
Ethan shook his head.
“My leg bumped.”
“Can you walk?”
“Yes.”
Grant nodded.
“Go with your mom.”
Ethan looked at Vanessa lying beside the tipped sofa.
“Is she dead?”
“No.”
Grant’s answer was immediate.
“She fell. Adults are helping her.”
He would not let another adult’s cruelty become another burden for a seven-year-old.
Ruth led Ethan away.
Security arrived.
Vanessa was examined and helped only after medical staff confirmed she could be moved safely.
Margaret remained standing beside the rug.
Grant picked up the black briefcase.
“What did you test?” she asked.
That question mattered.
Not:
Why did you order DNA?
Not:
Whose DNA?
What did you test?
Grant’s eyes narrowed.
“Why are you asking?”
“I’m your mother.”
“That has never stopped you from expecting answers before I finish asking questions.”
Margaret’s lips tightened.
Grant entered the study.
Ruth sat beside Ethan on a leather sofa, cleaning the wine from her face with a towel.
Ethan had stopped sobbing but still held onto her sleeve.
Grant locked the door behind him.
Then placed the black briefcase on his desk.
Ruth watched him.
“I need to tell you something.”
Her expression became wary.
“About Ethan?”
“Yes.”
Grant opened the briefcase.
Inside was an old photograph.
He turned it around.
Ruth stared.
The blood left her face.
The photograph showed a much younger Ruth standing beside a man in a faded black jacket.
They were outside a diner.
Ruth looked perhaps twenty-six.
Pregnant.
The man had one hand resting gently on her shoulder.
Ruth whispered:
“Daniel.”
Grant said nothing.
Ethan looked between them.
“Who’s Daniel?”
Ruth swallowed.
“Someone I knew before you were born.”
Grant sat opposite her.
“The man in that photograph wasn’t named Daniel Reed.”
Ruth slowly looked at him.
Grant’s voice dropped.
“His name was Adrian.”
The room went still.
“My son.”
Ruth stared at him.
“No.”
Grant slid another item from the briefcase.
A sealed copy of a letter.
“I found this three weeks ago among property recovered from an old storage unit registered under the name Adrian Reed.”
Ruth’s hands began trembling.
“Where is he?”
Grant did not answer immediately.
Because this was the part that had forced him to order the DNA comparison.
Adrian had died seven years earlier.
May you like
Only weeks before Ethan was born.
And until three weeks ago, Grant had never known that his estranged son had been living under another surname—or that Ruth had been part of his life.
