Chapter 8: The Woman Behind The Test
I remembered Rebecca Shaw.
Not immediately.
At first, the name floated somewhere beyond reach.
Then I saw a face.
Dark hair.
Silver earrings.
A woman standing outside a coffee shop six years earlier, staring at me through the window while Ethan and I argued at a corner table.
“Your coworker,” I whispered.
Ethan nodded.
“Former coworker.””
James looked between us.
“Who is she?””
Ethan took a breath.
“Rebecca and I worked together after college. She became obsessed with our relationship.””
“Obsessed how?””
“She kept telling me Claire was wrong for me. She sent anonymous messages. She tried to convince Claire I was cheating.””
I remembered those messages.
Screenshots from accounts I didn’t recognize.
Warnings that Ethan was seeing someone else.
At twenty-four, I had believed enough of them to let doubt poison everything.
“You told me those messages were spam.””
“I thought they were.””
“Until when?””
“Until after we broke up.””
I stared at him.
“You found out?””
He nodded.
“And you never told me?””
“You were already with James when I finally proved it.””
James’s expression remained unreadable.
Ethan continued.
“Rebecca was fired after she accessed my work email. I cut contact completely.””
Lauren shook her head.
“That doesn’t make sense. Why would she contact me years later?””
“Because you gave her an opportunity.””
Dad looked at Lauren.
“What exactly did you post?””
She hesitated.
“Lauren.””
“I asked whether anyone knew how to arrange a private paternity test without involving the parents.””
Mom covered her mouth.
“You actually wrote that publicly?””
“It was a closed group.””
“That doesn’t make it better,” Dad said.
Lauren looked toward me.
“I know.””
I almost laughed.
She kept saying that.
I know.
As if knowing afterward could undo anything.
James picked up the fake report.
“So Rebecca saw Lauren’s post, recognized Claire’s name somehow, and contacted her.””
Ethan nodded.
“That would be my guess.””
“But why fake the result?””
Nobody answered.
Then I remembered something.
“Because she didn’t want Lauren to discover Ethan wasn’t the father.””
Ethan looked at me.
“Exactly.””
My stomach twisted.
“She wanted Lauren to believe it.””
James turned toward Lauren.
“What information did you give Rebecca?””
Lauren looked frightened now.
Not embarrassed.
Not defensive.
Frightened.
“My name.””
“What else?””
“Claire’s.””
“What else?””
“Emma’s birthday.””
James’s face hardened.
“What else?””
Lauren began crying again.
“Our address.””
I stared at her.
“You gave a stranger my address?””
“I thought she needed it for the paperwork.””
“You gave her my home address?””
“I’m sorry.””
I stepped away.
James immediately took Emma from me because my hands had started shaking.
He held our daughter against his chest.
Our daughter.
Whatever those papers said, whatever Lauren had tried to destroy, Emma was James’s in every way that mattered.
But now another thought entered my mind.
“If Ethan isn’t her biological father…”
The sentence died in my throat.
James looked at me.
I knew what he was thinking.
He knew what I was thinking.
The original question still remained.
Who was?
“I want a real test,” James said.
My heart hurt.
But I nodded.
“So do I.””
He came closer.
“This isn’t because I doubt you.””
“I know.””
“It’s because somebody manufactured evidence about our child.””
“I know.””
Ethan suddenly spoke.
“There’s something else you need to see.””
He unlocked his phone.
“What now?”” Dad asked.
“Rebecca emailed me yesterday.””
I stared at him.
“Yesterday?””
“Yes.””
“Why didn’t you mention that when you arrived?””
“Because I didn’t understand it until Lauren said her name.””
He opened the email.
The subject line contained only two words.
*Merry Christmas.*
Below it was a photograph.
My stomach dropped.
It showed the front of my house.
Taken from across the street.
Christmas lights wrapped around the porch.
My car in the driveway.
And through the living room window, barely visible behind the curtains, was me holding Emma.
The timestamp was from three nights ago.
James’s entire posture changed.
“Send that to me.””
Ethan did.
Dad reached for his phone.
“I’m calling the police.””
Lauren sank into a chair.
“Oh my God.””
I looked at her.
“You brought this person back into my life.””
“I didn’t know.””
“No. You didn’t care enough to know.””
She covered her face.
Mom stood beside her but didn’t touch her.
For once, nobody rushed to comfort Lauren.
Then Ethan scrolled farther down.
“There’s a message under the photo.””
James looked over his shoulder.
“What does it say?””
Ethan read it aloud.
“‘You always wondered why Claire left you. Ask her sister what she found in the storage box.’”
Lauren’s head snapped up.
“What storage box?””
Ethan stared at her.
“You tell us.””
“I don’t know what she means.””
But Mom suddenly went pale.
I noticed immediately.
“Mom?””
She didn’t answer.
“Mom.””
Dad turned toward her.
“Margaret?””
Her hands began trembling.
“I thought it was gone.””
I felt a chill move down my spine.
“What was gone?””
Mom looked at me.
“There was a box delivered here about six years ago.””
Ethan stepped closer.
“From Rebecca?””
“I never knew who sent it.””
“Why didn’t you tell me?”” I asked.
Margaret’s eyes filled with tears.
“Because Lauren found it first.””
Every person in the room turned toward my sister.
Lauren stared at Mom.
“What are you talking about?””
Mom shook her head.
“Don’t lie anymore.””
Then she looked at me.
“The box contained photographs, printed messages, and a letter about Ethan.””
My mouth went dry.
“What letter?””
Mom closed her eyes.
“The letter that convinced you Ethan had betrayed you.””
I stopped breathing.
I remembered it.
The anonymous envelope that ended our relationship.
The evidence I had never questioned.
The betrayal that pushed Ethan out of my life.
Mom’s next words landed like a stone.
“Claire, Lauren knew those documents were fake before you ever saw them.””
Lauren stood so quickly her chair fell backward.
“That’s not true.””
Mom looked directly at her.
“Yes, it is.””
“How would I know?””
“Because I found your handwriting on the envelope you used to forward them to Claire.””
Lauren’s face went blank.
And suddenly, I understood something far worse than anything we had uncovered that night.
Lauren’s jealousy hadn’t started with Emma.
It hadn’t started with my pregnancy.
May you like
It had started six years earlier.
And my sister might have been quietly rearranging my life ever since.
