Chapter 10: The Son Who Was Never Robert's
I read the birth certificate six times.
Each time, the words remained the same.
*Mother: Eleanor Whitmore.*
*Father: Not Recorded.*
I had given birth to Greg in March 1975. I remembered every detail of that day. The white curtains in the delivery room.
The smell of disinfectant. The nurse who brought me a glass of water. Robert standing beside my bed, crying when he first held our son.
Or at least, I remembered Robert crying.
Now I wondered why his name wasn't on the certificate.
"Abigail," I whispered, "where did you get this?""
She turned the laptop toward herself.
"The email came from an account registered to Robert. The attachment appears to be an archived hospital document.""
Caleb shook his head.
"That doesn't prove Franklin is Greg's biological father.""
"No," Abigail agreed.
"But it means we need to investigate.""
I stood and walked toward the window.
Outside, students crossed the street carrying backpacks, laughing as if the world were perfectly ordinary.
My world had just split in two.
"Robert knew," I said.
Nobody answered.
"He knew for fifty-one years that Greg might not be his biological son, and he never told me.""
Caleb approached.
"Eleanor, there may be another explanation.""
I turned.
"What explanation could possibly make this better?""
He looked down.
"I don't know. But we shouldn't assume the worst before we have the facts.""
I returned to the table.
"Then let's get the facts.""
Abigail opened another folder.
"I've been researching the hospital records for months. There was a maternity ward transfer in March 1975, but the records are incomplete. Several birth certificates were amended years later.""
"Why?""
"An administrative investigation. Some newborn identification tags had been switched during a power failure.""
My stomach tightened.
"Switched?""
Abigail nodded.
"According to the surviving report, three babies were temporarily separated from their mothers.""
Caleb looked at her.
"Are you saying Greg might not be Franklin's biological son?""
"I'm saying we don't know whose child he is.""
I closed my eyes.
The possibility was almost unbearable.
I remembered Greg's first steps.
His first words.
His first day at school.
I remembered holding his hand when he had surgery at six years old.
None of those memories depended on blood.
But the fact that someone might have manipulated my family for fifty years made me feel physically ill.
"Where can we find the original records?"" I asked.
Abigail hesitated.
"At the county archive. But there's another problem.""
"What?""
"The hospital administrator responsible for the investigation was Franklin Mercer.""
Caleb swore under his breath.
"Of course he was.""
Abigail continued.
"He was working in hospital administration before he became a businessman. If the records were altered, he had access.""
I looked at the birth certificate.
"Then he could have changed Greg's identity.""
"Possibly.""
Officer Brooks called an hour later.
He had spoken with the district investigators.
They agreed to reopen the investigation into Robert's death, pending forensic review of the surviving medical evidence.
He also wanted to interview Dr. Samuel Reed.
But there was bad news.
Dr. Reed had been found dead at his home that morning.
The initial report described it as a suspected heart attack.
I stared at the phone.
"Another heart attack?""
"That's what the preliminary report says," Officer Brooks replied.
Caleb stood.
"Was he alone?""
"Yes.""
"Any signs of forced entry?""
"None reported.""
Abigail closed her eyes.
"Franklin is eliminating witnesses.""
Officer Brooks lowered his voice.
"That's one possibility we're investigating. I need all three of you to stay somewhere secure.""
After the call, Abigail suggested a private hotel outside the city.
Caleb disagreed.
"Hotels are predictable. I know a retired veteran who owns a property near Bastrop. Nobody will know we're there.""
I looked at the birth certificate again.
"Before we go anywhere, I want a DNA test.""
Abigail nodded.
"I can arrange one through an independent laboratory.""
"And I want Greg tested.""
Caleb looked at me.
"Do you think he'll agree?""
I gave a sad smile.
"He's spent fifty-one years believing he's entitled to everything Robert built. Let's see how he feels when he discovers the truth.""
That evening, my phone rang.
Greg.
I answered.
"Hello?""
"Mom, we need to talk.""
"About what?""
"About the bank. The hospital. Everything.""
"Then start with the truth.""
He sighed.
"Franklin told me you've been speaking to Abigail.""
"She's your sister.""
Silence.
Then he laughed bitterly.
"She's not my sister.""
"Why would you say that?""
"Because Dad told me years ago.""
My heart stopped.
"What?""
Greg's voice became quieter.
"He told me I wasn't his biological son.""
I sat down.
"How long have you known?""
"Since I was twenty-eight.""
I closed my eyes.
"Why didn't you tell me?""
"Because I didn't want to hurt you.""
I almost laughed.
"You didn't want to hurt me?""
"Mom, listen. I didn't know the whole story. Franklin said you had an affair before I was born.""
The room seemed to tilt.
"That's a lie.""
"That's what I thought.""
"Then why did you believe him?""
"Because Dad refused to talk about it!""
I gripped the phone.
"Your father loved you.""
"Then why did he keep the truth from me?""
"Perhaps because he was trying to protect you.""
Greg exhaled.
"There's something else you need to know.""
I waited.
"Franklin told me he was my father.""
The words landed like a physical blow.
I couldn't speak.
Greg continued.
"He said he had loved you before you married Dad. He said you had kept the pregnancy secret because you wanted to save your marriage.""
I felt tears burning behind my eyes.
"Greg, your father was Robert Whitmore. The man who raised you, taught you to ride a bicycle, and stayed beside your hospital bed when you had pneumonia.""
"I know.""
"Do you?""
His voice cracked.
"Mom, I don't know what to believe anymore.""
For the first time in weeks, I heard something other than arrogance in his voice.
Fear.
I softened.
"Then come and take a DNA test.""
"Why?""
"Because I want the truth.""
He was silent.
Then he asked:
"Where are you?""
I didn't answer.
"Mom?""
"Somewhere safe.""
He lowered his voice.
"Franklin says you have evidence that could put us both in prison.""
I swallowed.
"That depends on what you did.""
"I didn't kill Dad.""
I closed my eyes.
"Then prove it.""
He hung up.
A minute later, another message appeared.
*I'll take the DNA test. But you need to know something about Dad's final night. He wasn't the only one who received that medication.*
I stared at the screen.
May you like
Before I could respond, a second message arrived.
*The other patient was a newborn baby.*
