Chapter 10 - The Test
The DNA results were unnecessary.
But Ethan asked for them.
Not Christopher.
Ethan.
“I want proof,” he said.
So we did it.
The probability of Christopher’s paternity was greater than 99.99 percent.
When Daniel handed me the report, I felt nothing surprising.
Christopher was their father biologically.
That had never been the question.
The question was whether he could ever become anything beyond biology.
He met Ethan in a café near Prospect Park.
I sat two tables away.
Christopher arrived without a suit.
Jeans.
Gray sweater.
No driver.
Ethan noticed too.
“You look normal.”
Christopher almost smiled.
“I’m trying it out.”
Ethan didn’t smile back.
They sat.
For ten minutes, Ethan asked questions.
Did you know Mom was pregnant?
Yes.
Did you see the ultrasound?
Yes.
Did you know there were two babies?
Yes.
Did you think we might be yours?
Yes.
Why didn’t you call her?
Christopher swallowed.
“Because I was selfish and afraid.”
“Afraid of what?”
“Losing the job I wanted.”
Ethan stared.
“You picked a job over us?”
“Yes.”
Christopher did not soften it.
Did not blame Leonard.
Did not blame Veronica.
Did not say complicated.
Just yes.
Ethan’s eyes filled.
“That’s horrible.”
“Yes.”
“Do you know how horrible?”
“I’m learning.”
“You don’t get ten years back.”
“No.”
“You missed everything.”
“I know.”
“My first asthma attack.”
Christopher flinched.
“My first concert.”
“Yes.”
“Emma’s heart surgery.”
His head snapped up.
“What surgery?”
I closed my eyes.
Emma had undergone a minor procedure at four.
Christopher never knew.
Ethan saw his reaction.
“That’s what I mean.”
Christopher’s face crumpled.
And for the first time, my son watched his father cry.
Not elegantly.
Not one tasteful tear.
Christopher covered his face.
His shoulders shook.
Ethan looked uncomfortable.
Then angry.
“Don’t cry.”
Christopher wiped his eyes.
“You’re right.”
“I didn’t say you couldn’t be sad. I said don’t cry like I’m supposed to make you feel better.”
Christopher froze.
Then nodded.
“You’re right.”
Ethan sat back.
“My therapist says forgiveness and reconciliation are different.”
Christopher almost smiled.
“Your therapist sounds smarter than me.”
“He is.”
That time Ethan almost smiled too.
Christopher looked down.
“I don’t expect forgiveness.”
“Good.”
“I just want to become someone you wouldn’t be embarrassed to know.”
Ethan studied him.
“That’s different.”
“Yes.”
Afterward, Ethan walked beside me through the park.
“Well?”
I asked.
“He’s terrible.”
I laughed despite myself.
Ethan kicked a pebble.
“But maybe not forever.”
That evening, Veronica Mercer was arrested.
Not for what she did to me.
Not initially.
Federal investigators had uncovered financial fraud connected to Westbridge Holdings and several Summit property acquisitions.
Leonard Price had started cooperating.
And once frightened men start cooperating, old secrets develop a remarkable ability to become evidence.
Christopher called.
“Have you seen the news?”
“Yes.”
“There’s more coming.”
“What?”
“Your divorce.”
I stopped.
“What about it?”
“Leonard admitted Frederick Mercer ordered him to manipulate the settlement.”
“Why?”
Christopher was silent.
Then he said, “Because your name was on something they needed.”
I frowned.
“My name?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“A company.”
May you like
And suddenly our divorce was no longer only about Christopher marrying Veronica.
Someone had needed Samantha Hail gone for another reason entirely.
