My mother was taken to the hospital that evening.
The doctors said stress had contributed to her collapse, but they wanted to keep her overnight for observation.
I sat beside her bed.
My father stood near the window.
Rebecca waited outside with the attorney.
Neither of us had spoken much since my mother mentioned the blood test.
Finally I asked him.
“Do you believe her?”
He turned.
“I believe your mother remembers something.”
“That isn't what I asked.”
He looked away.
“I don't know.”
The answer hurt.
Not because he accused me of anything.
Because I could see how badly he wanted the past to remain simple.
I was his daughter.
He was my father.
That should have been enough.
But Michael had just placed a question between us.
My mother opened her eyes.
“You need to know.”
My father turned toward her.
“Maria, don't.”
“I can't keep hiding things.”
She looked at me.
“Your grandmother believed your father wasn't your biological father.”
I stared.
“Did she have proof?”
“No.”
“Then why test me?”
“Because she was suspicious.”
“Of what?”
My mother hesitated.
“Of your father's relationship with someone before your marriage.”
My father looked stunned.
“What are you talking about?”
“I'm not saying it was true.”
“But she thought it was.”
“Yes.”
“Who did she suspect?”
My mother closed her eyes.
“Daniel Mercer.”
The room went silent.
I stared at my father.
He looked as shocked as I felt.
“That doesn't make sense,” he said.
“Your grandmother thought Daniel had been close to me.”
“Were you?”
My mother looked at him.
“No.”
“Then why?”
“She was paranoid.”
My father shook his head.
“She destroyed Elena's life because she thought she could control everything.”
My mother nodded.
“She wanted certainty.”
I looked at her.
“What did the test say?”
“I never saw the result.”
“Then who did?”
“Your grandmother.”
“And?”
“She refused to tell me.”
My father looked at me.
“She never told me either.”
I felt a strange relief.
“So nobody knows.”
My mother shook her head.
“Someone does.”
“Who?”
“Michael.”
My stomach dropped.
“How?”
“He was the one who arranged the test.”
My father stepped closer.
“What?”
“Your mother told Michael everything.”
“Why would she?”
“Because she trusted him.”
My father laughed bitterly.
“He was the person who ordered Elena's baby taken.”
My mother nodded.
“She didn't know that at the time.”
I asked, “What happened to the test result?”
My mother stared at the ceiling.
“Your grandmother kept it.”
“Where?”
“I don't know.”
The attorney entered the room.
“We may.”
He placed a document on the table.
It was a property inventory from my grandmother's estate.
One item had been listed as a sealed medical file.
Location: Mercer Legal Archives.
My father stared.
“Mercer kept it?”
“Apparently.”
Rebecca stood behind the attorney.
“Then we need to find him.”
The police had already begun searching for Mercer.
But there was another complication.
The file had been transferred from the archive six years earlier.
To Michael.
My mother closed her eyes.
“He took it.”
The attorney nodded.
“And according to the transfer record, he accessed it three days ago.”
My father stared at the date.
“That was before Patricia was arrested.”
“Yes.”
I felt cold.
Michael had known about the file.
He had known about me.
He had known about my pregnancy.
The entire sequence suddenly looked different.
The attorney explained that the file might contain nothing important.
“It could simply confirm your father's biological relationship.”
“Then why would Michael care?”
“We don't know.”
Rebecca stepped closer.
“Maybe he wants Valerie to believe the result is something else.”
My father frowned.
“Why?”
“To divide the family.”
I looked at her.
“Or to control me.”
The hospital room door opened.
A police officer entered.
“We found something.”
Everyone turned.
“What?”
“Mercer's vehicle.”
“Where?”
“Abandoned near the old Bennett property.”
My mother sat upright.
“Which property?”
The officer named it.
My father looked at her.
“You still own that place?”
My mother shook her head.
“Michael does.”
The officer handed the attorney a photograph.
The vehicle had been left outside a deteriorating house.
The front door was open.
The police had searched the interior.
They found no Mercer.
But they found a safe.
The officer continued.
“We also found a box addressed to Valerie.”
My heart began pounding.
“What was inside?”
“A copy of your grandmother's medical file.”
My father stared at me.
“Open it.”
The officer shook his head.
“It's evidence.”
The attorney looked at me.
“We should wait.”
I wanted to scream.
Instead I nodded.
The officer placed the photograph on the table.
On top of the box was a note.
My name was written in black ink.
The message beneath it contained only one sentence.
You deserve to know who your father is.
My father looked devastated.
I reached for his hand.
He hesitated.
Then he took mine.
“You are my daughter,” he said.
I believed him.
Whatever the paper said, that truth remained.
The officer's phone rang.
He listened.
Then his expression changed.
“Mercer has been located.”
My father stood.
“Where?”
“He contacted us.”
“Why?”
“He wants to surrender.”
Rebecca asked, “Where is he?”
The officer looked at me.
“He says he'll only speak if Valerie is present.”
My father immediately shook his head.
“No.”
I stood.
“I'll go.”
“Valerie—”
“If he knows something about me, I need to hear it.”
The attorney objected.
“You shouldn't be placed in that position.”
I looked at him.
“He has been making decisions about my life without asking me.”
I placed my hand over my stomach.
“I'm done letting other people decide what I can handle.”
My father looked at me for a long moment.
Then he nodded.
“But I'm coming.”
The officer agreed.
Rebecca came too.
We drove to the police station.
Mercer was waiting in an interview room.
He looked older than the man in the photographs.
Tired.
Frightened.
But when he saw me, his expression changed.
“You look like Elena.”
I sat across from him.
“Tell me the truth.”
He nodded.
“I will.”
He placed a sealed envelope on the table.
“The test result is inside.”
My heart began pounding.
I looked at my father.
He gave me a small nod.
I opened the envelope.
The first line was clear.
The test had been performed when I was an infant.
The second line identified my mother.
The third line identified the biological father.
I read the name.
Then read it again.
My hands began shaking.
It wasn't my father.
It wasn't Daniel Mercer either.
It was Michael Bennett.
My mother's brother.
I stared at the page in disbelief.
Mercer leaned forward.
“Your grandmother was wrong about why the test mattered.”
My father stood abruptly.
“What are you saying?”
Mercer looked at me.
“Michael is not your biological father.”
I froze.
“Then why is his name there?”
Mercer swallowed.
“Because he forged the original result.”
He pushed another document across the table.
“The real test is missing.”
My father stared at him.
“Where is it?”
Mercer looked at me.
“Michael has it.”
My phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
One message.
Now you know why your baby matters.
Click here to continue reading: PART 13: The Missing Test Result Was Only the Beginning, and Mercer Finally Explained Why Michael Needed My Child Before the Truth Could Reach Court
The Morning My Family Turned Against Me Was the Morning I Realized Someone Had Already Decided What Would Happen to My Baby
Part 12 of 20
