Chapter 7: The Photograph
For a moment, I forgot how to breathe.
“Nathan?””
His name came out as a whisper.
Dante’s face hardened.
Samuel gripped the back of the chair.
Nathan spoke through the phone.
“The other baby is me.””
Nobody moved.
I looked at Dante.
“That’s impossible.””
Samuel didn’t answer.
That frightened me more than anything.
“Nathan,” I said, “send the photograph.””
My phone buzzed seconds later.
I opened the image.
Two young women stood outside a hospital.
One was my mother.
I recognized her immediately.
Isabella looked exhausted but happy, holding a newborn wrapped in a white blanket.
Beside her stood Margaret Whitmore.
She held another baby.
On the back, written in blue ink, were two names.
Emma.
Nathan.
And beneath them:
November 14, 1998.
Same day.
Same hospital.
I stared at Samuel.
“You knew?””
“No.””
“Don’t lie to me.””
“I swear.””
Dante took the phone.
His expression changed as he enlarged the photograph.
“Emma.””
“What?””
He pointed to the corner.
A third person stood partly outside the frame.
Charles Whitmore.
Behind him was a hospital sign.
St. Vincent’s Maternity Center.
Samuel suddenly sat down.
“Oh, God.””
“What?””
He looked at me.
“Isabella didn’t give birth at St. Vincent’s.””
My stomach dropped.
“Where was I born?””
“According to Michael, at Mercy General.””
Dante looked at the photograph again.
“Then why was Isabella here with a newborn?””
I called Nathan back.
He answered immediately.
“Where are you?””
“My parents’ townhouse.””
“Find your birth certificate.””
“I already did.””
“And?””
“It says St. Vincent’s.””
Samuel stood.
“Ask him for the attending physician.””
I repeated the question.
Paper rustled.
“Dr. Adrian Cole.””
Samuel closed his eyes.
“You know him.””
“Yes.””
“Who was he?””
“Conrad Whitmore’s private physician.””
Cold spread through me.
Dante’s voice sharpened.
“Marco, find Cole.””
Marco stepped into the hallway with his phone.
Nathan was still speaking.
“Emma, there’s something else.””
“What?””
“The file has DNA reports.””
Dante and I exchanged a look.
“Whose DNA?””
“I don’t know. The names are coded.””
“Send them.””
A moment later, six pages appeared on my phone.
Dante scrolled through them.
The reports were recent.
Less than two years old.
Two samples.
Subject A.
Subject B.
Probability of biological sibling relationship:
99.8%.
My stomach lurched.
“No.””
Dante read it twice.
Samuel took the phone.
“These could belong to anyone.””
Nathan spoke through the call.
“There’s a handwritten note on the last page.””
“What does it say?””
His voice shook.
E.W. and N.W. confirmed.
I dropped the phone.
Dante caught it before it hit the floor.
“No.””
I backed away.
“No.””
Nathan’s voice came faintly from the speaker.
“Emma, I didn’t know.””
“You’re lying.””
“I swear to God.””
“We were going to get married.””
“I didn’t know!””
The words echoed through the room.
Dante ended the call.
I stared at him.
“You don’t get to hang up my phone.””
“You need to think.””
“I need the truth.””
“You need evidence.””
“Then get it!””
My voice cracked.
For the first time since the cathedral, tears came.
I hated them.
I wiped them away immediately.
Dante said nothing.
Samuel looked devastated.
“If that report is real…”
“Don’t.””
He stopped.
Marco returned.
“Cole died twelve years ago.””
Dante cursed under his breath.
“But his medical practice was acquired by a private clinic in Connecticut. Some archives survived.””
“How quickly can we get them?””
“An hour, maybe two.””
“Do it.””
Marco left again.
I walked toward the window.
Rain had begun tapping against the glass.
My mother had hidden evidence inside a wedding dress.
Margaret had ordered that dress destroyed.
Nathan had paid Veronica to sabotage our ceremony.
Now a DNA report claimed the man I had almost married was my brother.
It was too perfect.
Too monstrous.
And suddenly, that bothered me.
I turned.
“Why?””
Dante frowned.
“Why what?””
“Why keep the DNA report?””
Samuel looked at me.
“If Margaret knew Nathan and I were siblings, why let the wedding happen?””
Nobody answered.
I continued.
“She had years to stop us. She could have shown Nathan the report. She could have told me privately. Instead, she waited until the wedding day and tried to destroy my dress.””
Dante’s eyes narrowed.
“You think the report is false.””
“I think Margaret wanted someone to find it.””
Samuel stood.
“A planted document.””
“Maybe.””
My phone rang again.
Charles.
I answered.
“Emma.””
His voice sounded broken.
“Where is Margaret?””
“I don’t know.””
“She emptied one of our accounts.””
Dante came closer.
“How much?””
“Eight million.””
Samuel swore.
Charles continued.
“She also took my father’s old files.””
“Charles,” I said, “are Nathan and I related?””
Silence.
“I asked you a question.””
“No.””
The answer came immediately.
I gripped the phone.
“How do you know?””
“Because Nathan isn’t Margaret’s biological son.””
The room went still.
“What?””
Charles inhaled shakily.
“Margaret couldn’t have children.””
Dante stared at the phone.
“Then whose son is he?””
“I don’t know.””
I nearly screamed.
“How can you not know?””
“Because my father arranged the adoption.””
“Conrad?””
“Yes.””
“Why?””
“He said the child came from a family that owed us a debt.””
Samuel whispered, “No.””
I turned.
His face had gone gray.
“What?””
He looked at the photograph again.
“Isabella had twins.””
My knees nearly gave out.
“No.””
“She told Michael one baby didn’t survive.””
Dante’s face transformed.
“Samuel.””
“I never saw the body.””
The room became impossibly small.
I looked at the photograph.
My mother holding me.
Margaret holding Nathan.
Two babies born the same day.
My voice barely worked.
“Then the DNA report could be real.””
Samuel nodded.
I felt sick.
Dante took the photograph from my hand.
Then he stopped.
He brought it closer to the lamp.
“What?””
He rubbed his thumb across the date written on the back.
“The ink.””
I stared at him.
“What about it?””
“This photograph may be old.””
He looked at the handwritten names.
“But these names aren’t.””
Before I could answer, Marco returned carrying a tablet.
“We got part of Cole’s archive.””
Dante turned.
Marco’s expression was strange.
“What did you find?””
“A delivery record.””
My heart pounded.
“Twins?””
“No.””
He placed the tablet on the desk.
“According to Cole’s original notes, Isabella delivered one child.””
I stared at him.
“One?””
Marco nodded.
“A girl.””
Relief hit me so hard I almost collapsed.
“Nathan isn’t my brother.””
“No.””
Dante looked at the forged photograph.
“Then whose baby was Margaret holding?””
Marco swiped to another document.
“A male infant was admitted to St. Vincent’s that same night without a birth mother listed.””
Samuel leaned over the screen.
“What name?””
Marco looked directly at Dante.
“There wasn’t one.””
He paused.
May you like
“But the emergency contact was Conrad Moretti.””
Dante’s father.
