By sunrise, I knew more about Rachel Donovan than I had known about some executives who worked for me for a decade.
Thirty-six.
Former embryology technician.
No criminal record.
No marriage record.
One child.
Ethan Donovan.
She had left Chicago shortly after Ethan’s birth.
Moved twice.
Wisconsin first.
Minnesota briefly.
Then back to Wisconsin.
The monthly Northline transfers began six weeks after the child was born.
Eight thousand dollars.
Every month.
Never missed.
I sat in Clara’s room with coffee I had forgotten to drink.
She slept for forty minutes before waking abruptly.
“Anything?”
“Rachel’s address is current.”
She sat up.
“Did they go?”
“Nina’s people are coordinating with local authorities.”
“Is Ethan there?”
“Unknown.”
“Photo?”
“Nothing reliable.”
She looked at me.
“You haven’t slept.”
“Neither have you.”
“I gave birth.”
“You win.”
“Obviously.”
My phone rang.
Nina.
I answered before the first ring finished.
“We found Rachel.”
“Ethan?”
“With her.”
My eyes closed.
“Safe?”
“Appears to be.”
Clara gripped my arm.
“Does she know why you’re there?”
“She does now.”
“And?”
“She wants a lawyer.”
“That’s reasonable.”
“She also says she has been waiting for this.”
I stood.
“For what?”
“For you.”
The words landed strangely.
“Me personally?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“She says Julian promised that if anything happened to him, you would eventually be told.”
I stared at the window.
“That doesn’t sound like Julian.”
“Rachel says you do not know Julian as well as you think.”
“That has become painfully obvious.”
“Can I speak to her?”
“She agreed to a video call once counsel arrives.”
“How long?”
“Soon.”
I looked toward the NICU hallway.
“I want Clara present.”
Nina said nothing.
Clara answered for herself.
“I’m present.”
Twenty-eight minutes later, Rachel appeared on Nina’s secure video link.
She looked nothing like the villain my exhausted mind had constructed.
Brown hair.
No makeup.
Sweatshirt.
A kitchen behind her.
A child’s drawing taped crookedly to a refrigerator.
Her attorney sat beside her.
Nina appeared in another window.
I could not see Ethan.
I was grateful.
I was terrified.
Rachel studied my face.
“You look like him.”
“Who?”
“Ethan.”
My throat tightened.
Clara’s fingers closed around mine.
“Where is he?”
“With my sister upstairs.”
“Is he safe?”
“Yes.”
“Does he know about me?”
Rachel’s expression changed.
“He knows there is a man named Liam.”
I had to look away.
“What does he think I am?”
“A friend of Uncle Julian.”
Uncle Julian.
The words were almost unbearable.
“Julian sees him?”
“Not for eleven months.”
“Before that?”
“Every few months.”
I stared.
“He visited?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To make sure Ethan was okay.”
Nothing about that fit the simple monster I had built.
“Did Ethan know he was his uncle?”
“No.”
“Then why call him Uncle Julian?”
“Because that’s what Julian asked me to use.”
I almost laughed.
Even his lie had contained truth.
“How was Ethan conceived?”
Rachel’s attorney touched her arm.
She nodded.
“I’m answering.”
Then she looked directly at me.
“Not the way you’re probably imagining.”
“That would be helpful.”
“I worked at Halpern Reproductive Medicine.”
“I know.”
“Your sample was stored after fertility testing.”
“Without my permission.”
“Originally, I believed the extension was authorized.”
“By me?”
“Yes.”
“It wasn’t.”
“I know that now.”
“What happened?”
“About a year later, Catherine Vance approached me.”
“How did she know you?”
“She had been receiving treatment coordination for another family member.”
“Elise?”
“No.”
“Who?”
Rachel shook her head.
“That isn’t relevant.”
“Everything has become relevant.”
Her lawyer intervened.
“Mr. Mercer, let her explain chronologically.”
I hated that he was right.
Rachel continued.
“Catherine told me she represented a family estate dispute. She said biological material belonging to an heir needed independent preservation.”
“That doesn’t explain a child.”
“No.”
“What did you do?”
“I helped transfer the sample.”
“Illegally?”
“Yes.”
The admission came without excuse.
“For money?”
“At first, no.”
“Then?”
“She paid me later.”
“How much?”
“Twenty-five thousand.”
“Why?”
“To keep quiet.”
Clara asked, “When did pregnancy enter this?”
Rachel looked at her.
“After the transfer.”
“Whose pregnancy?”
“Mine.”
The room went still.
I stared at Rachel.
“You carried Ethan.”
“Yes.”
“You’re his mother.”
“Legally and emotionally, yes.”
“Biologically?”
She swallowed.
“No.”
Clara’s fingers tightened around mine.
“Whose egg?”
Rachel looked toward her attorney.
He nodded.
“Donor egg.”
“Whose?”
“Anonymous, as far as I knew.”
“As far as you knew.”
“Yes.”
“What did Catherine tell you?”
“That the embryo was being created for inheritance testing.”
I stared.
“That makes no medical sense.”
“I know.”
“You’re an embryology technician.”
“I know.”
“So you knew this wasn’t about testing.”
“By then, yes.”
“Why agree?”
Rachel looked ashamed.
“Because I had been trying to become a mother for years.”
The answer silenced me.
“I couldn’t produce viable eggs. Catherine knew.”
“How?”
“She had access to information she should never have had.”
That pattern again.
“She offered you a child.”
“She said an embryo could be created with donor material and your sample. She said I could carry the pregnancy and raise the child.”
“In exchange for what?”
“Proof.”
“Of what?”
“That Richard Mercer’s acknowledged family line could produce a biological heir.”
I frowned.
“That still makes no sense.”
Rachel nodded.
“Because she lied to me too.”
“What was the real purpose?”
“I learned later.”
“How?”
“Julian.”
Of course.
“When?”
“During my pregnancy.”
“What did he say?”
“He arrived at my apartment furious.”
“Why?”
“He had discovered what Catherine had done.”
I stared.
“Julian didn’t arrange Ethan’s conception.”
“No.”
That changed one of our central assumptions.
“Did he know about my sample?”
“He knew Catherine was looking for biological leverage. He didn’t know she had used it.”
“What did he do?”
“He told me to terminate the pregnancy.”
Clara inhaled sharply.
Rachel continued before I reacted.
“Then he apologized.”
“That’s a strange sequence.”
“He was panicking.”
“Why?”
“Because Catherine planned to use the baby in the Mercer inheritance dispute.”
“How?”
“If she could establish that your biological child existed outside your marriage, she believed she could create enough scandal and legal confusion to force Margaret into negotiating Julian’s claim.”
I stared.
“She created a child as leverage.”
Rachel’s eyes filled.
“Yes.”
I felt sick.
“What did Julian do after telling you to terminate?”
“He came back the next day.”
“And?”
“He said the child had done nothing wrong.”
Leave the child out of it.
The recording suddenly had a history.
“He offered me money to disappear.”
“No.”
“What?”
“He offered money to protect us.”
“Same result.”
“Different reason.”
I waited.
“He said Catherine would never stop using Ethan if she could find him.”
“So he moved you.”
“Yes.”
“Northline payments.”
“Yes.”
“Why use stolen money?”
Rachel frowned.
“I didn’t know it was stolen.”
“He could have paid personally.”
“He said personal payments could be traced by Catherine.”
That was plausible.
It did not absolve him.
“Why didn’t he tell me?”
Rachel’s expression hardened.
“I asked him that many times.”
“And?”
“He said you would destroy him.”
“He was right.”
“He also said you would take Ethan.”
I stopped.
“What?”
“He believed once you knew, your lawyers would establish paternity and remove him from me.”
“I wouldn’t.”
“You know that now.”
“I would not take a child from the only mother he knows.”
Rachel studied me.
“You can say that because you’ve had three hours to think about him.”
That hurt.
She continued.
“Julian had spent years believing your family solved problems by taking control.”
I glanced at my mother’s legacy.
He had evidence for that belief.
“What did Catherine want after Ethan was born?”
“DNA.”
“The blood spot.”
“Yes.”
“You gave it to her?”
“No.”
“Then how?”
“She obtained it through the screening laboratory.”
“Of course.”
“Julian found out.”
“And moved you again.”
“Yes.”
“Why did he keep the genetic report?”
“To know whether Catherine had actually done what she claimed.”
“And it confirmed Ethan is mine.”
Rachel’s face softened.
“Yes.”
I could barely ask the next question.
“Can I see him?”
Her eyes moved toward the staircase.
“Not yet.”
My chest tightened.
“Why?”
“Because he’s three.”
“I know.”
“You are a stranger.”
“I know.”
“He has already had too many adults disappear.”
That stopped me.
“Who disappeared?”
“Julian.”
“Eleven months ago.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“He said coming here had become dangerous.”
“Because Daniel was talking?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did Ethan miss him?”
“Yes.”
The answer made something ache unexpectedly.
“Does he love Julian?”
“Yes.”
I looked away.
A child I had never met loved the man I currently wanted prosecuted.
Nothing was simple enough.
Clara asked gently, “Rachel, did Julian ever hurt Ethan?”
“No.”
“Threaten you?”
“No.”
“Control you?”
Rachel considered.
“He controlled information.”
That sounded like him.
“But he never threatened Ethan.”
“No.”
“Did he ever talk about Liam?”
“Yes.”
I looked back.
“What did he say?”
Rachel hesitated.
“That you were his brother.”
My throat tightened.
“What else?”
“That you would have been a good father if things were different.”
I could not answer.
Clara’s eyes filled.
Rachel continued.
“He hated you.”
“I know.”
“And loved you.”
I almost laughed.
“No.”
“I’m telling you what I saw.”
“Julian destroyed my marriage.”
“Yes.”
“He stole from me.”
“Yes.”
“He hid my child.”
“Yes.”
“And you call that love?”
“I said he loved you. I didn’t say he knew how to do it without resentment.”
That sentence remained with me.
I asked, “Where is Catherine?”
Rachel’s face changed.
“I hoped you knew.”
“No.”
“She contacted me three weeks ago.”
My pulse accelerated.
“What did she want?”
“Ethan.”
Clara went rigid.
“What did you say?”
“No.”
“Did she threaten you?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“She said Julian could no longer protect us.”
“Why not?”
“She said he had lost control of Mercer.”
That meant Catherine had been watching recent events before I knew anything.
“What else?”
“She said Ethan belonged with his real family.”
I felt anger rise.
“Meaning me?”
“No.”
Rachel looked directly into the camera.
“Julian.”
I frowned.
“Why Julian?”
“She said he was the rightful Mercer heir.”
There it was.
Catherine did not see children as people.
She saw them as pieces in a succession argument.
“Where is Ethan right now?”
Rachel’s attorney intervened.
“We are not disclosing location beyond law enforcement.”
“Good.”
I surprised everyone.
“Keep it that way.”
Rachel stared.
“Even from me.”
Her expression shifted.
“Until security is arranged.”
“Yes.”
I looked at Nina.
“Protect them.”
“Already happening.”
“Catherine cannot get near him.”
“She won’t.”
I looked at Rachel again.
“I want a new DNA test.”
“I expected that.”
“Independent.”
“Yes.”
“With full chain of custody.”
“Yes.”
“And I’m not asking for custody.”
She blinked.
“Not now. Not while we’re figuring out what happened.”
Clara squeezed my hand.
Rachel’s shoulders loosened slightly.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t know what I’m doing yet.”
That was the most truthful thing I could say.
After the call ended, I remained seated.
Clara said nothing for a while.
Then:
“You have two sons.”
“Maybe.”
“You heard her.”
“I want the test.”
“Fair.”
I looked toward the NICU.
“One born yesterday.”
“One three years ago.”
“And neither came into your life the way they should have.”
“No.”
She rested her head against the pillow.
“What are you thinking?”
“That Julian protected Ethan.”
“Yes.”
“And hid him from me.”
“Yes.”
“Both can be true.”
“Yes.”
I hated that.
It would have been easier if every action fit neatly beneath villain or victim.
But Julian had harmed us deliberately.
And somewhere inside that same damaged man, a line existed that Catherine could not make him cross.
A child.
My phone rang.
Marcus.
I answered.
“Please tell me Mercer hasn’t exploded.”
“Not literally.”
“Promising.”
“Julian left.”
I stood.
“What?”
“Headquarters.”
“When?”
“Twenty minutes ago.”
“Security was watching him.”
“He walked out with counsel.”
“Where?”
“Unknown.”
“Track the SUV.”
“He didn’t take it.”
“Phone?”
“Left in his office.”
My stomach tightened.
“He knew we found Rachel.”
“I don’t know.”
“Who told him?”
“Could be nobody.”
“Marcus.”
“There’s more.”
“What?”
“Before he left, he accessed an old encrypted archive.”
“Which one?”
“MHC correspondence.”
My pulse quickened.
“What did he download?”
“Unknown.”
“Destination?”
“External drive.”
“Can you identify the files?”
“I’m reconstructing.”
“Do it.”
Marcus hesitated.
“And Liam?”
“Yes?”
“Julian left something on your desk.”
“What?”
“An envelope.”
“Don’t touch it.”
“I didn’t.”
“What does it say?”
“Your name.”
“Anything else?”
Marcus was silent.
“Marcus.”
“Three words.”
“What?”
He read them.
Catherine found Leo.
Click here to continue reading: PART 19: Catherine Reached the Hospital Before We Could Move Leo, and Julian’s Warning Forced Me to Trust the Brother Who Betrayed Me
The Call That Reached Me Minutes Before I Signed the Biggest Deal of My Career
Part 18 of 35
