Marcus refused to leave his apartment until Nina’s team arrived.
That was the first sensible decision anyone in this family had made without argument.
He stayed on the line with me while two investigators traveled across Chicago.
“Do you recognize the handwriting?” I asked.
“No.”
“Photograph?”
“Never seen it.”
“What does it show?”
“A woman holding me.”
“Face visible?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“Describe her.”
“Dark hair. Maybe thirty. Hospital gown.”
Clara looked at me.
Not Margot.
Margot had been blond for as long as I remembered, though hair changed.
“Anything distinctive?”
Marcus hesitated.
“She’s wearing a bracelet.”
“What kind?”
“Hospital ID.”
“Can you read it?”
“Not clearly.”
“Don’t enhance it yourself.”
“I know.”
Nina had trained all of us into reluctant evidence technicians.
“Did the intruder damage anything?”
“Door lock.”
“Computer?”
“Untouched.”
“Company equipment?”
“Untouched.”
“So they wanted you to see the photo.”
“Yes.”
“Who knows where you live?”
“Half of HR.”
Not helpful.
“Did Margot?”
“I’ve met her.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“Yes.”
“Catherine?”
“I don’t know.”
“Julian?”
“Yes.”
“Daniel?”
“No idea.”
“Do you know you were adopted?”
Marcus went silent.
“Yes.”
“Since when?”
“Always.”
“Closed adoption?”
“Yes.”
“Parents?”
He gave their names.
Ordinary people from Illinois.
His father had taught high-school chemistry.
His mother worked as a physical therapist.
Both deceased within the last five years.
“Did they ever tell you anything about your birth family?”
“Only that my mother was young and couldn’t raise me.”
“Young?”
“Yes.”
“That doesn’t fit Margot.”
“She would have been mid-thirties.”
“Exactly.”
Marcus breathed slowly.
“So Nina thinks she arranged the adoption, not necessarily gave birth.”
“Yes.”
“That is somehow worse.”
“Why?”
“Because someone planned where I went.”
I understood.
Being surrendered was one thing.
Being placed strategically was another.
“Why did you join Mercer?”
Marcus laughed once.
“You’re asking if I infiltrated you.”
“I’m asking.”
“Because you recruited me from a cybersecurity firm.”
“That’s true.”
“You interviewed me.”
“I remember.”
“Julian approved the compensation package.”
That mattered.
“Did he know you were adopted?”
“HR did.”
“Birth information?”
“Not beyond legal records.”
“Did Margot ever show unusual interest?”
Marcus thought.
“At company events, maybe.”
“What does maybe mean?”
“She remembered my birthday.”
“That’s unusual?”
“For your mother’s assistant? Not necessarily.”
“Anything else?”
“She once asked where I grew up.”
“When?”
“Years ago.”
“What did you say?”
“Evanston.”
“And?”
“She asked whether my parents had always lived there.”
My skin tightened.
“That is specific.”
“I thought she was making conversation.”
Everything used to look like conversation.
Then you discovered too many people had been collecting answers.
Nina’s investigators arrived.
Marcus stayed on the call until they took control.
The photograph was bagged.
The handwriting note preserved.
Door evidence collected.
Fifteen minutes later, Nina called me directly.
“We got access to partial adoption records.”
“How?”
“Agency successor records were transferred to a diocesan archive.”
“And?”
“Marcus was processed through St. Augustine.”
My stomach tightened.
“So the ledger is him.”
“Almost certainly.”
“Birth mother?”
“Sealed in the surviving index.”
“Can you open it?”
“Legal process underway.”
“Birth father?”
“Not listed in the index.”
“Who paid?”
“Margot.”
“Why?”
“There’s a note.”
“What note?”
“Private placement requested. No contact with Mercer family.”
Clara stared at me.
“Then she was protecting him from the Mercers.”
“Or hiding him from them,” I said.
Nina nodded.
“Both can be true.”
“Who selected his adoptive parents?”
“Margot appears to have approved them.”
Marcus had grown up with teachers and therapists.
Stable.
Unconnected to wealth.
No corporate dynasty.
No leverage.
Maybe Margot did not hide him to use later.
Maybe she wanted one child to escape.
“Does Margot appear in medical records?”
“Not as mother.”
“Then who?”
“Still sealed.”
I looked toward the NICU.
Leo slept.
Children kept appearing in this story only after adults erased their beginnings.
“Can Marcus consent?”
“To unsealing?”
“Yes.”
“He already has.”
“Good.”
Clara asked, “Where is Margot?”
Nina’s face tightened.
“Still unlocated.”
“Catherine?”
“In custody.”
“Can we ask her?”
“We have.”
“And?”
“She laughed.”
That sounded like Catherine.
“What did she say?”
Nina looked annoyed.
“Ask the child who grew up watching the family from the inside.”
I stared.
“Marcus.”
“Yes.”
“She knew.”
“Yes.”
“Did he?”
“We don’t think so.”
“How could he be watching from inside if he had no idea?”
“She may be implying something else.”
“Or trying to poison trust.”
“Likely.”
I called Marcus once investigators finished interviewing him.
He answered immediately.
“Do you know?”
“Know what?”
“That Margot arranged your adoption.”
Silence.
Then:
“No.”
“It’s in agency records.”
“Why?”
“We don’t know.”
“Birth mother?”
“Still sealed.”
“Father?”
“Unknown.”
He was quiet for so long I checked the connection.
“Marcus?”
“I spent my whole career finding hidden relationships in systems.”
“I know.”
“And apparently missed my own.”
“No one looks at themselves like an audit.”
“That is not comforting.”
“It wasn’t meant to be.”
He almost laughed.
Then his voice sharpened.
“Why did Margot place me?”
“I don’t know.”
“Was I leverage?”
“No evidence.”
“A Mercer child?”
“Possibly.”
“Yours?”
I nearly laughed.
“Impossible.”
“I’m checking.”
“Marcus.”
“Sorry.”
His anxiety made sense.
When your origin became uncertain, absurdity stopped feeling absurd.
“Did you ever have genetic testing?”
“No.”
“Would you consent?”
“Yes.”
No hesitation.
“Good.”
“Against whom?”
“That depends.”
“Julian?”
“Possibly. Me. Existing Mercer samples. Maybe Margot if we find one.”
“Do we have hers?”
Nina had already thought of that.
A hairbrush and personal items remained in Margot’s room at the Asheville property.
Chain-of-custody collection underway.
Marcus went quiet.
“What if she’s my mother?”
“Then you decide what that means.”
“You make that sound simple.”
“It won’t be.”
“Helpful.”
“I’m surrounded by people who taught me honesty late.”
“Fair.”
Later that morning, I met with my mother by secure video.
She was still under protection at the Asheville property.
I told her about Marcus.
Her reaction was immediate.
“No.”
“You recognize something?”
“No. I mean Margot never had a child.”
“She arranged an adoption.”
“That is different.”
“Did she ever mention St. Augustine?”
My mother’s face changed.
“What?”
“That’s a yes.”
“Not exactly.”
“What did she say?”
“Years ago, she donated to them.”
“Why?”
“She said they helped a relative.”
“What relative?”
“I didn’t ask.”
Of course.
“What did she tell you about her miscarriage?”
“That she lost the baby.”
“Did you know she was pregnant by Lucas?”
My mother closed her eyes.
“Not until much later.”
“When?”
“Richard told me.”
“What did he say?”
“That Lucas had made a mess with an employee.”
That phrasing made me angry even decades later.
“A mess.”
“That was Richard.”
“Did he say what happened?”
“Only that the pregnancy ended.”
“Did he verify?”
“No.”
“Then maybe it didn’t.”
My mother stared.
“You think Marcus is Margot and Lucas’s son.”
“I think evidence needs to decide.”
She was quiet.
Then:
“If he is…”
“What?”
“Julian would have known.”
“Why?”
“Lucas kept a private medical file in the family archive.”
“For what?”
“Paternity concerns.”
Of course.
“How many?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did Margot have access?”
“Yes.”
“Catherine?”
“Possibly.”
“Richard?”
“Yes.”
“So if a child was born, someone could test later.”
“Yes.”
“What did Lucas’s file contain?”
“Blood-type records. Later genetic samples from medical treatment.”
“Stored sample.”
“Yes.”
The same stored material Catherine eventually used to create Ethan.
This family had preserved more DNA than truth.
“Did Margot ever ask about those samples?”
My mother hesitated.
“Once.”
“When?”
“Shortly after she started working for me.”
My pulse quickened.
“What did she ask?”
“Whether Lucas’s medical archives still existed.”
“And you said?”
“Yes.”
“Did she access them?”
“I don’t know.”
I looked at Nina, who was listening.
She noted it.
“Did Richard know Margot worked for you?”
“Yes.”
“Did he ever object?”
“No.”
“Why recommend her?”
“I thought guilt.”
“That sounds plausible.”
“He said we owed her stability.”
Again.
Money and employment instead of truth.
“What if Marcus is Lucas’s son?”
My mother whispered, “Then Richard knew.”
“Why?”
“He would not have let Margot near us otherwise.”
That was not proof.
But it fit Richard’s pattern.
Keep secrets close where they could be monitored.
Give Margot a job.
Give Helena money.
Keep Catherine uncertain.
Control through proximity.
“Did you ever notice Margot paying special attention to Marcus?”
My mother thought.
Then her face changed.
“Oh.”
“What?”
“The scholarship.”
“What scholarship?”
“When Marcus was hired, he had student loans.”
“So?”
“Margot suggested MHC create a technical-recruitment loan repayment benefit.”
I stared.
“Specifically for him?”
“She framed it broadly.”
“Did anyone else receive it?”
“I don’t know.”
Nina typed.
She would know soon.
“If Margot secretly paid his debt…”
My mother looked sick.
“She may have been helping him.”
“From a distance.”
“Yes.”
Not using him.
Protecting him.
At least perhaps.
That complicated Margot again.
Destroyer of my marriage.
Architect of traps.
Possible mother who made sure her son grew up far from Mercer power.
People refused to remain simple.
At noon, Nina received the unsealed birth index.
She called immediately.
“Birth mother confirmed.”
My chest tightened.
“Who?”
“Margot Pierce.”
Clara closed her eyes.
“Father?”
“Not on birth certificate.”
“Genetic test?”
“Still pending.”
“Anything else?”
“Yes.”
“Name at birth?”
I waited.
“Matthew Pierce.”
Marcus.
The adoption had changed his first and last name.
“Was Lucas present?”
“No.”
“Any hospital notes?”
“One social-work summary survived.”
“What does it say?”
Nina read.
Mother requests no contact with father’s family. States paternal relatives use money and influence to control dependents. Fears child will become instrument in inheritance dispute.
Clara looked at me.
Margot had seen the future.
Or something close to it.
She hid her son precisely to prevent what Catherine later did to Ethan.
“Why tell everyone she miscarried?”
“Protection.”
“From Catherine.”
“Likely.”
“Lucas?”
“Possibly him too.”
“But Lucas wanted to meet Julian.”
“That does not mean he would have treated Margot’s child well.”
True.
Nina continued.
“There’s another note.”
“What?”
“Mother intends to maintain distant financial support if possible without revealing identity.”
Marcus’s scholarship.
Birthdays remembered.
Questions about where his parents lived.
She had watched from afar.
My phone rang.
Marcus.
I answered.
“Did you get it?”
“Yes.”
Silence.
“Say it.”
“Margot is your birth mother.”
He breathed out.
Not quite a sob.
Not quite relief.
“And father?”
“Unknown.”
“Lucas?”
“Testing.”
“I want the result.”
“You’ll get it.”
“I should feel something.”
“You probably feel many things.”
“I feel stupid.”
“Don’t.”
“I’ve sat across tables from her.”
“I know.”
“She watched me grow up.”
“Yes.”
“Without telling me.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Records say she believed the Mercer family would turn you into leverage.”
Marcus laughed bitterly.
“She was right about the family.”
“Maybe.”
“Did she protect me?”
“Yes.”
I answered before evidence could stop me.
Then corrected.
“She tried to.”
Marcus was quiet.
“That’s worse.”
“Why?”
“Because now I have to hate someone who might have loved me.”
I understood exactly.
“I’m becoming experienced with that.”
He laughed despite himself.
Then Nina sent me a message.
DNA preliminary kinship complete.
I opened it.
Marcus spoke.
“What?”
I read twice.
“Liam.”
“Your father was Lucas Mercer.”
Silence.
Then a long exhale.
“So Julian…”
“Is likely your half-brother.”
“And Ethan?”
“Also your half-brother.”
He laughed once.
The sound was almost broken.
“I joined Mercer Holdings because the salary was good.”
“I know.”
“And ended up working for cousins I didn’t know I had.”
“Yes.”
“Julian knew?”
“Unknown.”
“Margot did.”
“Yes.”
“Catherine?”
“Probably.”
Marcus stopped.
Then:
“Wait.”
“What?”
“If Catherine knew I was Lucas’s son…”
His voice sharpened.
“Then why create Ethan?”
Clara looked at me.
The question was obvious once he asked it.
Catherine had claimed she created Ethan as an heir.
As leverage over Julian.
But Lucas already had another biological son.
Marcus.
An adult.
More plausible as an heir than an engineered child.
I looked at Nina.
She had reached the same conclusion.
“Catherine didn’t create Ethan because Lucas had no other son.”
“No.”
“Then why?”
Nina’s face changed.
“We need to reexamine the embryo records.”
My stomach tightened.
“What are you thinking?”
“That Ethan may not have been created for Julian.”
“Then who?”
Nina hesitated.
“For someone Catherine believed had a stronger legal claim than Marcus.”
I looked at Clara.
Then at Leo’s incubator beyond the glass.
“Who?”
Nina answered quietly.
“Possibly you.”
Click here to continue reading: PART 27: Ethan’s Embryology Records Proved Catherine Had Lied About His Father, and the Real Donor Connected Him to Leo in a Way Nobody Predicted
The Call That Reached Me Minutes Before I Signed the Biggest Deal of My Career
Part 26 of 35
