By nine the next morning, Walter Fleming knew we were coming.
Kenneth had called his attorney first.
That was the difference between people like Connor and people like Walter.
Connor believed power meant surprising everyone else.
Walter believed power meant never appearing surprised.
His attorney arranged the meeting at Fleming Capital's offices downtown.
I had been there many times during my marriage.
The building occupied four floors of glass and limestone overlooking Monument Circle, designed to look wealthy without appearing vulgar. Walter preferred old money aesthetics even though much of the fortune had been earned within his own lifetime.
The receptionist recognized me.
Her smile faltered only slightly.
“Dr. Sinclair.”
“Good morning.”
“Mr. Fleming is expecting you.”
Of course he was.
Kenneth walked beside me toward the elevator.
“You don't have to speak unless you want to.”
“I know.”
“Let me handle the legal issues.”
“I know.”
“And if Walter tries to provoke you—”
“I know.”
He glanced at me.
“You're becoming difficult.”
“I learned from the best.”
The elevator opened onto Walter's private floor.
His office had barely changed.
Dark wood.
Muted artwork.
A view expensive enough to make weather seem decorative.
Walter stood behind his desk when we entered.
He was seventy-two and still carried himself with the disciplined stiffness of a man who believed aging was largely a failure of standards.
He did not offer to shake my hand.
“Kirsten.”
“Walter.”
His eyes moved over me.
“You look well.”
“So do you.”
“That isn't true, but I appreciate manners.”
Kenneth almost smiled.
Walter's attorney, Lydia Grant, sat near the window with a legal pad open.
“Let's avoid nostalgia,” she said.
Walter lowered himself into his chair.
“I have no nostalgia regarding my son's marriage.”
There it was.
We had been in the room less than thirty seconds.
I took the seat across from him.
Kenneth sat beside me.
“Then let's discuss Raymond Vale,” Kenneth said.
Walter's gaze shifted.
“What about him?”
“You employ him.”
“I employ many people.”
“Mr. Vale conducted work for you involving Connor.”
Walter looked toward Lydia.
She gave the smallest nod.
“Yes.”
My pulse quickened.
“What kind of work?” Kenneth asked.
“Family matters.”
“That's vague.”
“Intentionally.”
“Did you ask Vale to follow Melinda Travis?”
Walter's jaw tightened.
“No.”
“Gabriel Mercer?”
“No.”
“Kirsten?”
His eyes returned to me.
“No.”
I believed that answer.
Kenneth continued.
“Did Connor have access to Vale?”
“Yes.”
“Through you?”
“Initially.”
“And later?”
“Connor hired him directly.”
“When?”
Walter looked annoyed.
“Several times over the years.”
“For what?”
“I didn't ask.”
That I did not believe.
“You always asked,” I said.
Walter's eyes narrowed.
“Kirsten.”
“You wanted quarterly reports from Connor's businesses while we were married.”
“This is not about my management style.”
“You had opinions about what color car he bought. Don't tell me you didn't ask why he hired an investigator.”
Kenneth remained wisely silent.
Walter looked toward the window.
“Connor said he suspected someone was stealing from him.”
“When?”
“Four years ago.”
Again.
Everything returned to four years ago.
Melinda's first pregnancy.
Connor's secret fertility testing.
Now a private investigator.
“Who did he think was stealing?” I asked.
“He never said.”
“But you know.”
Walter looked at me.
Silence settled across the office.
Then he said, “I suspected he was investigating Melinda.”
My stomach tightened.
“You knew about her.”
“Not the affair.”
“When did you learn?”
“Later.”
“How much later?”
“After her pregnancy.”
“The first pregnancy?”
His eyes sharpened.
So he knew.
Kenneth leaned forward.
“Mr. Fleming, we're going to need clarity.”
Walter's expression became colder.
“You are not in a courtroom.”
“No. Which means leaving voluntarily is easy.”
Lydia intervened.
“Walter.”
He exhaled.
“Yes. I knew Melinda had been pregnant four years ago.”
“Did Connor tell you?”
“No.”
“Who?”
“Raymond Vale.”
I stared at him.
“Vale reported to you on Connor?”
“Occasionally.”
“Without Connor knowing?”
“When necessary.”
I almost laughed.
The Fleming family had apparently outsourced trust.
“Why did Vale tell you about the pregnancy?”
“Because Connor had asked him to investigate whether Melinda was involved with another man.”
Gabriel.
The pieces aligned again.
“So Connor knew Melinda might have been pregnant by someone else,” Kenneth said.
“Yes.”
“And still sought fertility testing.”
“Yes.”
My attention snapped to Walter.
“You knew about the diagnosis.”
Walter did not answer.
I felt something inside me harden.
“Did you know?”
His silence was enough.
I stood.
Kenneth touched my arm lightly.
Not restraint.
Reminder.
“Sit,” Walter said.
I stared at him.
“Don't.”
His expression changed.
For the first time since I had known him, Walter looked older than his years.
“I learned afterward.”
“How long afterward?”
“Several months.”
“During my marriage.”
“Yes.”
“You knew Connor had a fertility problem.”
“Yes.”
“And you knew I was being blamed.”
Walter's face tightened.
“I knew your marriage was unstable.”
“That isn't an answer.”
“I knew Connor had not told you.”
“And you said nothing.”
Lydia shifted.
Walter lifted one hand.
“No. Let her finish.”
I almost admired that.
“You sat at our dinner table while your son told people I was too focused on work to become a mother.”
Walter looked down.
“You watched me go through treatment.”
“I did not know the details.”
“You knew enough.”
“Yes.”
The answer quieted me more effectively than denial would have.
“Why?”
Walter's eyes met mine.
“Because Connor asked me not to interfere.”
I laughed.
It sounded ugly.
“You interfered in everything.”
“I know.”
“Except the one thing that mattered.”
“Yes.”
No defense.
No excuses.
I sat slowly.
Kenneth let the silence remain.
Walter broke it.
“There was another reason.”
Of course there was.
“What?”
“The diagnosis was complicated.”
“Meaning?”
“Connor was told natural conception was extremely unlikely.”
“I know.”
“But not impossible.”
“I know.”
Walter folded his hands.
“He became obsessed with proving the doctor wrong.”
That sounded like Connor.
“If Melinda became pregnant with Noah,” Walter continued, “Connor treated it as proof.”
“Did you?”
Walter hesitated.
“Yes.”
Something in me chilled.
“You believed Noah was biological.”
“I wanted to.”
The phrase was almost identical to Gabriel's.
People believed what made their lives easier.
“What about the trust?” Kenneth asked.
Walter's face closed immediately.
Lydia answered.
“The trust is private family property.”
“Not if it motivated concealment, witness intimidation or fraudulent transfers.”
“No one has established any of those things.”
Kenneth slid a copy of the corporate transfer record across the desk.
Walter looked at it.
His expression altered by a fraction.
Enough.
“You recognize Crescent Bridge Holdings,” Kenneth said.
Walter pushed the page back.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I authorized business with them.”
I turned to Kenneth.
He stared at Walter.
“You sent the money.”
“Some of it.”
“Through Connor's entities?”
“Yes.”
“Why use accounts tied to concealed assets from Kirsten's divorce?”
Walter's eyes moved toward me.
For the first time, I saw genuine discomfort.
“I did not know those assets had been concealed from her.”
Kenneth's voice turned sharp.
“You expect me to believe that?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because unlike my son, I know when lying has stopped being useful.”
That sentence silenced the room.
Walter leaned back.
“Connor told me he needed funds transferred discreetly to resolve a potential challenge involving Noah.”
“Resolve how?”
“He claimed someone was threatening to make a false paternity accusation.”
“Gabriel.”
“I didn't know the name at first.”
“What did you think the money was for?”
“A confidential settlement.”
“You authorized two hundred twenty-eight thousand dollars without identifying the recipient?”
“I trusted my attorneys to structure it.”
Lydia looked displeased.
Apparently not all attorneys involved had been present.
Kenneth said, “Did you know Gabriel never accepted a settlement?”
Walter's face changed.
“What?”
Kenneth pushed another document across.
“The money went to Crescent Bridge Holdings. But there is no settlement agreement attached to the transfer.”
Walter picked up the page.
“That's impossible.”
“No.”
“Connor told me it was executed.”
“Then Connor lied.”
Walter read the page again.
His mouth hardened.
“Where is Raymond Vale?”
Kenneth asked the question quietly.
Walter looked up.
“I don't know.”
“Have you spoken to him?”
“Not in two weeks.”
“Connor has.”
That got his attention.
“How do you know?”
“We don't. But Melinda saw someone matching Vale's description at Connor's house yesterday.”
Walter turned to Lydia.
“Call him.”
She did.
The call went directly to voicemail.
Walter's irritation became something else.
Concern.
He opened a drawer, took out his own phone and called a different number.
No answer.
He set the phone down.
“What happened yesterday?”
Kenneth summarized the confrontation, the false allegation that Gabriel had come to the house, the abandoned vehicle and the threatening messages.
Walter listened without interruption.
When Kenneth finished, the older man's face had drained of color.
“Connor said Gabriel attacked him?”
“Yes.”
“He didn't.”
“You sound certain.”
“Because Gabriel wasn't the problem Connor feared.”
My pulse changed.
“What problem did he fear?”
Walter looked at me.
Then at Kenneth.
His attorney murmured, “Walter.”
He ignored her.
“The trust.”
“Yes,” I said. “We know it requires a biological male descendant.”
“That is not the important part.”
“Then what is?”
Walter stood and walked toward the window.
For several seconds, he watched traffic circle the monument below.
“When Connor was twenty-nine, he nearly bankrupted one of our subsidiaries.”
I frowned.
“What does that have to do with Noah?”
“Everything.”
Walter continued.
“He concealed losses from the board. I covered them.”
“Why?”
“He was my son.”
“And?”
“And I told him it would be the last time.”
Walter turned.
“The family trust was restructured afterward. Connor would receive limited distributions during my lifetime. The majority of his inheritance would pass through his legitimate descendants.”
Kenneth's expression sharpened.
“So without a legally recognized biological child—”
“Connor inherits far less.”
“How much less?”
Walter did not blink.
“Approximately eighteen million dollars.”
The number seemed absurd in the quiet office.
Eighteen million.
Suddenly the boasting in the hospital corridor looked different.
Not merely cruelty.
Not merely ego.
Proof.
A child worth eighteen million dollars to the man calling himself father.
I thought of Noah reaching for the stuffed giraffe.
“He needed Noah to be biologically his.”
“Yes.”
“Or at least legally accepted as his.”
Walter's jaw tightened.
“Yes.”
Kenneth leaned forward.
“If paternity establishes Gabriel is the biological father, what happens?”
“The trust provision becomes vulnerable.”
“Automatically?”
“No. But enough to trigger review.”
“And Connor knows this.”
“Of course.”
I felt nauseated.
“Did Melinda know?”
“I doubt it.”
“Did Gabriel?”
Walter shook his head.
“Not from me.”
“Then why send money to his company?”
“I already told you. Connor presented it as settlement.”
“Could the money have been intended to keep Gabriel quiet?”
Walter's face hardened.
“That is what a settlement would have done.”
Kenneth watched him.
“Was Raymond Vale supposed to deliver it?”
“Yes.”
Everything stopped.
“Vale handled the transaction?”
Walter nodded.
Kenneth and I looked at each other.
Gabriel's company received money.
Gabriel claimed he never agreed to a settlement.
Vale arranged the transaction.
Vale appeared at Connor's house.
Then Gabriel disappeared.
Walter seemed to reach the same conclusion.
He picked up his phone again.
This time he called someone and said only, “Find Raymond.”
He ended the call.
I stood.
“I want one question answered.”
Walter looked at me.
“Did Connor ever tell you Noah might not be his?”
A long silence followed.
Then Walter closed his eyes.
Once.
Briefly.
“Yes.”
I stopped breathing.
“When?”
“Before Noah was born.”
The room blurred around the edges.
“He knew.”
“He suspected.”
“Why?”
“Because Melinda told him about Gabriel.”
Kenneth stood too.
“And Connor still represented Noah publicly as his biological son.”
“Yes.”
“Did he ever get a DNA test?”
Walter hesitated.
That hesitation mattered.
“Walter.”
“I don't know.”
“You're lying.”
“No.”
“You know something.”
His eyes met mine.
“I know Connor claimed he had one.”
My heart hammered.
“What did it show?”
Walter looked toward Lydia.
She shook her head slightly.
He ignored her again.
“He told me it proved he was Noah's father.”
“Did you see it?”
“No.”
“Did anyone?”
“I assumed his attorney had.”
Kenneth immediately took out his phone.
“What attorney?”
Walter gave him the name.
Kenneth stepped away to call.
I remained facing Walter.
“You built an eighteen-million-dollar reason for your son to lie.”
His expression became tired.
“I built a structure meant to keep him from destroying what I spent my life creating.”
“And instead you gave him something to protect at any cost.”
“That is becoming apparent.”
My phone rang.
Officer Morales.
I answered immediately.
“Did you find Gabriel?”
A pause.
“Yes.”
My knees weakened.
“Is he alive?”
“Yes.”
Relief struck so fast I had to grip the desk.
“Where was he?”
“Near Eagle Creek.”
“Was he hurt?”
“Concussion. Dehydration. Some bruising.”
“What happened?”
“We're still taking his statement.”
“Does he know who attacked him?”
Morales hesitated.
“He says he was meeting someone about the money transferred to his company.”
I looked at Walter.
“Who?”
“Raymond Vale.”
Walter sat down hard.
Morales continued.
“Gabriel says Vale told him the payment had been arranged as compensation for dropping any claim regarding Noah.”
“But Gabriel didn't agree.”
“No.”
“Then why was the money sent?”
“He says he was trying to return it.”
Kenneth had stopped his call and was listening.
“What happened at the meeting?”
“According to Gabriel, Vale wasn't alone.”
My grip tightened around the phone.
“Who was with him?”
Morales paused.
“Connor.”
Nobody in Walter's office moved.
“What did Connor do?”
“Gabriel says they argued.”
“And?”
“He says Connor demanded he sign a statement saying he had fabricated the paternity claim for money.”
Walter covered his mouth.
“What happened when Gabriel refused?”
“Someone struck him from behind.”
“Vale?”
“He didn't see.”
“How did he end up near Eagle Creek?”
“He remembers being put into a vehicle. After that, very little.”
I stared at Connor's father.
The older man's face had collapsed into something I had never seen before.
Fear.
Morales continued.
“We are locating Mr. Vale now.”
“What about Connor?”
Another pause.
“Officers went to his residence.”
“And?”
“He's gone.”
My stomach dropped.
“With Melinda?”
“No.”
“Noah?”
“No.”
“Then where?”
“We don't know.”
Kenneth swore quietly.
I had never heard him do that.
Morales said, “Dr. Sinclair, do not return home.”
“I won't.”
“If Connor contacts you, call us immediately.”
“I understand.”
“And one more thing.”
“What?”
“We searched his home office.”
I looked at Kenneth.
“What did you find?”
“Documents.”
“What kind?”
“A draft paternity report.”
My mouth went dry.
“What did it say?”
“That Connor Fleming was Noah's biological father.”
Walter sagged in his chair.
I heard Kenneth inhale.
Then Morales added the detail that changed everything.
“The lab named on the report says it never performed the test.”
Click here to continue reading: PART 9: The Fake DNA Report Gave Police a Reason to Hunt Connor, While One Tiny Error Revealed Who Had Helped Him Create It
The Morning My Ex-Husband Tried to Humiliate Me in a Hospital Hallway and Misread the Calm on My Face
Part 8 of 35
