Chapter 3: The Blood Test
I stared at the paper in Claire’s hand until the letters stopped looking like words.
*Probability of Paternity: 0.00%.*
The hallway suddenly felt too small.
The walls I thought I knew.
The home I thought I built.
The family I thought was mine.
Everything shifted.
“Daniel…”
Claire’s voice cracked.
I looked at her.
“Eight years.””
She wiped her face.
“Please let me explain.””
“Eight years, Claire.””
“I was going to tell you.””
“When?””
She had no answer.
Behind us, Rebecca sat silently on the floor beside the hidden room.
She looked devastated.
Not guilty.
Devastated.
I held up the paper.
“Where did this come from?””
Claire swallowed.
“My father.””
“Victor had a DNA test proving I wasn’t Elijah’s father?””
“Yes.””
“And you stayed with me?””
Her eyes filled with tears.
“Because you are his father.””
I laughed quietly.
It wasn’t because anything was funny.
It was because my mind couldn’t accept what I was hearing.
“Biology doesn’t work that way.””
Claire stepped closer.
“Daniel, you were there for every first step. Every fever. Every nightmare.
Every birthday. Every morning he crawled into your bed because he was scared of thunder.””
“That doesn’t answer my question.””
She lowered her voice.
“Elijah was created through a fertility clinic.””
I froze.
“What?””
Claire looked at the floor.
“When we struggled to have a baby, we went through treatment.””
I remembered.
The appointments.
The paperwork.
The endless conversations about hope and disappointment.
“We were told the donor was anonymous,” she continued.
My fingers tightened around the document.
“Donor?””
“Yes.””
“Then why does Victor have a test?””
Claire looked at Rebecca.
Because she was afraid to say the answer.
Rebecca did it for her.
“Because Victor chose the donor.””
The room went silent.
I turned.
“What?””
Rebecca looked at me.
“My father controlled everything.””
Claire nodded slowly.
“He paid the clinic.””
“Why?””
Neither woman answered immediately.
Then Claire whispered:
“Because he wanted a blood connection to our family.””
My stomach dropped.
“You mean…”
“Elijah is related to him,” Rebecca said.
I looked toward the stairs.
My son was upstairs.
Sleeping in the room I painted blue.
The room where I read him stories.
The room where I taught him how to tie his shoes.
And somewhere, somehow, Victor Hale had been part of his life without me knowing.
“Why would he do that?””
Rebecca looked at the hidden room.
“Because he believed children were investments.””
A cold feeling spread through me.
“Explain.””
Claire sat at the kitchen table.
“When Mom disappeared, she had proof against him. Financial records. Names. Everything.””
“And he thought Rebecca knew where it was.””
“Yes.””
“So he hid her?””
Claire looked away.
“He didn’t hide her at first.””
Rebecca’s hands shook.
“He tried to convince me to tell him where the records were.””
“How old were you?””
“Six.””
I closed my eyes.
A six-year-old child.
And everyone around her had failed.
“My father kept me in different places for years,” Rebecca continued.
“Basements. Empty houses. Anywhere nobody would look.””
My voice became quiet.
“How did you survive?””
She looked toward Claire.
“Because she found me.””
I turned to Claire.
“When?””
“Eleven days ago.””
“Where?””
Claire took a breath.
“I followed my father.””
The answer surprised me.
“You were investigating him?””
“Yes.””
“Why didn’t you tell me?””
“Because I knew what he would do if he found out.””
The phone on the counter suddenly buzzed.
Everyone jumped.
Another unknown number.
I picked it up.
A video was attached.
My thumb hovered above it.
“Don’t open it,” Claire said.
“Why?””
“Because it’s probably what he wants.””
I looked at her.
“But you know what it is.””
Her silence answered for her.
I pressed play.
The screen showed security footage.
A hospital hallway.
A nurse carrying a baby.
The date appeared in the corner.
Eight years earlier.
I watched as the nurse entered a room.
A woman sat in the bed.
Claire.
She was holding a newborn.
My breath caught.
Then the camera angle changed.
A man walked into the room.
Victor Hale.
He placed something on the table.
Claire immediately looked terrified.
The video had no sound.
But I could read her lips.
She said:
“No.””
Victor leaned closer.
Then he pointed toward the baby.
The video froze.
A message appeared.
*NOW YOU KNOW WHY SHE NEVER TOLD YOU.*
I looked at Claire.
“What did he threaten you with?””
She couldn’t speak.
Rebecca stood suddenly.
“He threatened to take Elijah.””
My eyes moved back to Claire.
“You let him?””
“No.””
“Then what happened?””
Claire began crying.
“He told me if I ever exposed him, he would prove you weren’t Elijah’s father and destroy our family.””
I stared at her.
“You should have trusted me.””
“I know.””
The words came out broken.
“I know.””
Before I could answer, the lights went out.
The entire house fell into darkness.
Elijah screamed from upstairs.
“Daddy!””
I ran.
“Stay where you are!””
I reached the staircase.
Then I heard another sound.
The front door opening.
Someone had entered the house.
Not knocked.
Entered.
I grabbed the flashlight.
“Daniel.””
Claire’s voice shook.
“Don’t go down there.””
I looked toward the dark hallway.
A man’s silhouette appeared.
Tall.
Still.
Watching.
Then a familiar voice said:
“Daniel Mercer.””
May you like
Victor Hale stepped into the faint moonlight.
“You finally found the room.””
