Chapter 17: The DNA That Could Destroy Us
The next morning, the independent DNA laboratory called.
Officer Brooks answered first.
He listened without speaking, then asked the technician to repeat the result.
His expression changed.
He covered the phone.
"Mrs. Whitmore, I need you to sit down.""
Greg stood beside me.
"Just tell us.""
Officer Brooks put the call on speaker.
The technician spoke carefully.
"The samples confirm that Eleanor Whitmore is not the biological mother of Gregory Whitmore.""
I gripped the edge of the table.
Greg looked as though someone had struck him.
The technician continued.
"However, the test also confirms that Robert Whitmore is the biological father of Gregory Whitmore.""
I stared at the phone.
"That's impossible.""
The technician explained that the results were consistent with the earlier test, but the laboratory could not establish the exact circumstances of the birth.
Officer Brooks thanked him and ended the call.
Greg sat down.
"So Dad was my father.""
"Yes," I whispered.
"But you weren't my biological mother.""
I couldn't look at him.
The words hurt in a way I hadn't expected.
I had carried him.
I had raised him.
I had kissed his scraped knees, attended his school performances, and sat beside his hospital bed when he had pneumonia.
And somewhere in a hospital basement, someone had decided that none of that mattered.
Caleb leaned against the wall.
"There's still a piece missing. If Robert was Greg's biological father, then who was his biological mother?""
Victoria looked at her laptop.
"I think I know.""
She opened the original delivery record.
A name appeared.
*Evelyn Mercer.*
Greg stared.
"No.""
Victoria nodded.
"The DNA records in the file match that possibility. Evelyn was your biological mother.""
I looked at Greg.
His face had gone completely blank.
The woman who had visited our home, brought him birthday presents, and sat beside him at Christmas had been his biological mother all along.
And she had watched another woman raise him.
"Why?"" I whispered.
Victoria scrolled through the documents.
"There was a financial motive. Robert's father had established a family trust that would pass to Robert's biological child. Evelyn and Franklin knew about it.""
Caleb frowned.
"Why would Evelyn give up her own child?""
"She didn't intend to give him up," Victoria said.
"The records suggest she planned to keep control of him through Franklin.""
Greg looked at the documents.
"What does that mean?""
"It means she wanted you raised in a family with money, influence, and a direct connection to Robert's inheritance. She believed she could use you later.""
Greg shook his head.
"She let me call her Aunt Evelyn.""
Victoria's voice softened.
"She probably thought it was safer.""
I couldn't stand the thought of that woman holding my son while knowing the truth.
"Where was my baby?""
Victoria opened another record.
The hospital had recorded a female newborn under my name.
But the discharge destination was blank.
There was no adoption record.
No death certificate.
No transfer authorization.
Just a handwritten note:
*Infant released to private guardian. Identity protected by administrative order.*
"Who was the guardian?"" I asked.
Victoria shook her head.
"The name is missing.""
Greg looked at Officer Brooks.
"Can you find her?""
"We'll try. But we need the original hospital records, and some of those may have been destroyed.""
Abigail entered the room.
She had been quiet since hearing the DNA results.
"I may know where to look.""
Everyone turned.
Abigail placed a folder on the table.
"Before my mother died, she told me something about a baby.""
She looked at me.
"She said a nurse from St. Matthew's had asked her to help a young woman who had lost her child. The woman was told her baby had died, but my mother believed the child had been taken.""
"Did she know the woman's name?""
Abigail nodded.
"Eleanor.""
My breath caught.
"Your mother knew?""
"She tried to find you. But she was threatened. She kept a letter and a photograph.""
Abigail opened the folder.
The photograph showed a young nurse holding a newborn girl.
On the back was a handwritten date.
September 1975.
And beneath it:
*For Eleanor, if she ever comes looking.*
I took the photograph.
The nurse was Patricia Collins.
"Patricia knew about this?""
Abigail nodded.
"She must have. My mother said Patricia had arranged for the baby to be taken somewhere safe.""
Caleb looked at Officer Brooks.
"Then Patricia may have known where Eleanor's daughter went.""
Officer Brooks picked up his phone.
"We need to find her.""
Before he could make the call, an investigator entered.
"Officer, we received a message from the hospital's former records director.""
"Who?""
"Dr. Helen Ward. She says she has original maternity records. She wants to meet Eleanor Whitmore in person.""
"Where is she?""
"At a hotel in Dallas.""
Officer Brooks frowned.
"Why didn't she contact us?""
The investigator handed him a note.
"She says she doesn't trust anyone who worked for Franklin Mercer.""
I read the final sentence.
*I know where your daughter is. I also know why Robert never told you.*
My hands began to shake.
Robert had known?
All these years, had he known that our daughter was alive?
Caleb read the note over my shoulder.
"That doesn't make sense.""
I looked at him.
"Nothing about this makes sense.""
Officer Brooks arranged an escort to Dallas.
Before we left, Greg stopped me.
"Mom.""
I turned.
"Whatever happens, I need you to know something.""
"What?""
"I don't care who gave birth to me. You're my mother.""
I wanted to believe him.
I wanted to embrace him and tell him everything would be all right.
Instead, I touched his cheek.
"Then prove it by helping us find the truth.""
He nodded.
We drove to Dallas under police protection.
Dr. Ward was waiting in a private hotel conference room.
She was in her late seventies, with silver hair and a walking cane.
When she saw me, she stood slowly.
"Eleanor Whitmore?""
"Yes.""
She reached into her handbag.
"I've carried this for fifty-one years.""
She placed a small hospital bracelet on the table.
The name was faded, but still readable.
*BABY GIRL — WHITMORE — 1975.*
I touched it with trembling fingers.
"Where is she?""
Dr. Ward looked at me.
"Your daughter was never adopted.""
"Then where did she go?""
The doctor swallowed.
"Robert took her.""
I stared at her.
"What?""
"He discovered the switch before the records were finalized. He arranged for the baby to be placed with a trusted family outside Texas.""
Caleb stepped forward.
"Why didn't he tell Eleanor?""
Dr. Ward looked down.
"Because Franklin threatened to kill the child if Robert revealed what he had done.""
I felt tears running down my face.
"Where is my daughter now?""
Dr. Ward opened her handbag again.
She removed a recent photograph.
A woman stood outside a courthouse in Dallas, holding a stack of legal files.
I recognized her immediately.
She was the woman we had been calling Victoria Mercer.
But Dr. Ward shook her head.
"That's not your daughter.""
She turned the photograph over.
The name written on the back was:
*Katherine Whitmore.*
May you like
Then she looked directly at me.
"Your daughter has been investigating the Mercer family for years. And she's the reason Patricia Collins disappeared.""
