Chapter 4
I stared at the message until someone behind me honked.
The light had turned green.
Daniel pulled beside me again.
“What did she say?”
I showed him the screen.
He went pale.
“The boy who was supposed to be your son?”
“I don’t know what it means.”
But I was starting to.
And I hated the shape of it.
I called Rachel.
This time she answered.
“Where are you?”
“Don’t follow me.”
“Rachel, if you know where Ethan is—”
“I don’t know exactly.”
“You said you know who took him.”
“I know who might have.”
“Who is Noah?”
Silence.
“Rachel.”
“He’s the other baby.”
I nearly missed the turn.
“The seventeen-year-old mother’s baby?”
“Yes.”
“So what does ‘supposed to be my son’ mean?”
“I can’t explain this while you’re driving.”
“Try.”
“James, please.”
“Eight years, Rachel. You have spent eight years deciding when I’m allowed to know my own life. That ends now.”
She breathed shakily.
“My mother believed the babies were switched.”
My grip tightened.
“You said they weren’t.”
“I said I didn’t switch them.”
“That is not the same thing.”
“I know.”
My chest hurt.
“Was Ethan born to you?”
“Yes.”
“You are sure?”
“Yes.”
“Then how could Noah be my son?”
“I don’t know if he is.”
“You just told me your mother thought the babies were switched.”
“Not physically.”
I swore.
“What other kind of switch is there?”
“The records.”
I went silent.
Rachel continued.
“My mother claimed blood samples were mislabeled. She said the wrong infant was tested under the wrong chart.”
“So the blood type problem—”
“Might have belonged to Noah.”
“And Daniel’s DNA test?”
“I don’t know.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because I don’t know!”
She started crying again.
“For eight years, I have lived with four different versions of the truth. Every time I thought I understood what happened, my mother gave me another piece.”
“Why would she do that?”
“To control me.”
“Why?”
“Because she blamed me for what happened to my sister.”
I knew Rachel had an older sister.
Sarah.
She died before Rachel and I met.
I had been told it was a car accident.
“What does Sarah have to do with Ethan?”
Another silence.
Then Rachel said, “Sarah was Noah’s mother.”
My foot came off the gas.
Daniel almost rear-ended me.
“What?”
“My sister didn’t die before we met.”
The words came quietly.
“She died after.”
I had to pull over.
Daniel stopped behind me.
I sat there breathing hard.
“You told me Sarah died when you were in college.”
“I lied.”
“When did she die?”
“Eight years ago.”
“When?”
Rachel’s voice became a whisper.
“Five days after Ethan was born.”
I closed my eyes.
“Was Sarah seventeen?”
“Yes.”
“So that teenager you just described was your own sister.”
“Yes.”
“And she gave birth at the same hospital, around the same time?”
“Yes.”
“To Noah.”
“Yes.”
I felt physically sick.
Daniel approached my car.
I unlocked the passenger door.
He got in.
I put Rachel on speaker.
Daniel heard the rest.
“Why were you both giving birth at the same hospital?” I asked.
“Because my mother arranged it.”
Daniel stared at the phone.
“Why?”
Rachel hesitated.
“Because Sarah was afraid.”
“Afraid of who?”
“Our father.”
I knew almost nothing about Rachel’s father.
She said he had abandoned the family.
“Your father left when you were twelve.”
“That’s what Mom told everyone.”
“What actually happened?”
“He went to prison.”
“For what?”
Rachel’s breathing changed.
“Fraud. Extortion. Assault.”
Daniel leaned back.
“Jesus.”
“He got out nine years ago,” Rachel continued. “Sarah contacted him.”
“Why?”
“She wanted money.”
“For the baby?”
“Yes.”
“Who was Noah’s father?”
“I don’t know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I’m telling you what I know.”
Daniel suddenly said, “Was it James?”
The question hit me like a fist.
“What?”
Rachel didn’t answer.
Daniel looked at me.
Then at the phone.
“Rachel, was James sleeping with Sarah?”
“No!”
I almost laughed.
“Thank you for that small mercy.”
Daniel’s expression remained tense.
“Then why would Noah be James’s biological child?”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. I don’t know that he is.”
“But your text said he was supposed to be James’s son.”
“Because that’s what my mother called him.”
“Why?”
Rachel’s voice dropped.
“Because of the inheritance.”
I stopped breathing.
My grandfather.
I suddenly understood one piece.
My grandfather, Walter Miller, had died eleven months before Ethan was born.
He left a trust.
Not to me directly.
To my first biological child.
The trust was worth almost three million dollars by the time Ethan turned five.
It was locked until his eighteenth birthday.
I had always considered it Ethan’s future.
College.
A home.
A start in life.
I looked at Daniel.
He had no idea.
I said, “The Miller trust.”
Rachel whispered, “Yes.”
Daniel frowned.
“What trust?”
I ignored him.
“Are you telling me someone manipulated paternity records because of money?”
“I think my mother did.”
“For Ethan?”
“For Noah.”
Everything inside me went cold.
“Explain.”
“My father found out about your grandfather’s trust. Sarah was pregnant. You and I were engaged. Dad convinced Sarah he had a way to get access to the money.”
“That makes no sense. Noah wasn’t mine.”
“He didn’t need to be. He only needed paperwork saying he was.”
Daniel swore under his breath.
I stared through the windshield.
“So they planned to claim Noah was my biological son?”
“Yes.”
“And where were you in this plan?”
“I didn’t know until after I delivered Ethan.”
“Convenient.”
“I swear.”
“Stop swearing. Your promises mean nothing to me.”
She went silent.
That silence hurt more than an argument.
I asked, “What happened five days later?”
“Sarah panicked.”
“About what?”
“She wanted out. She told Mom she was going to tell you everything.”
“And then?”
“Sarah died.”
“In a car accident?”
“Yes.”
“Was it an accident?”
Rachel began crying.
“I don’t know.”
There it was again.
Those three words.
The anthem of my marriage.
I don’t know.
“Where did Noah go?”
“My mother took him.”
“You told me she was raising a nephew in Wyoming.”
“I know.”
“That was Noah?”
“Yes.”
I remembered the boy.
I had met him once.
Maybe twice.
A skinny kid with dark hair and serious eyes.
Margaret had called him the son of a distant cousin.
I had bought him a baseball glove one Christmas.
“How old is Noah now?”
“Eight. Two weeks older than Ethan.”
“And where has he been since your mother supposedly died?”
“With my father.”
“What’s your father’s name?”
“Robert Collins.”
Daniel suddenly leaned forward.
“Wait.”
I looked at him.
“What?”
“Cedar Ridge Consulting.”
Rachel stopped breathing.
Daniel took out his phone.
“I know that name.”
“From where?”
“My company hired them two years ago.”
“What company?”
“I’m a construction engineer. They handled background investigations on subcontractors.”
I almost laughed.
“Your wife know you’re having secret steak dinners with women from your past?”
He flinched.
Fair.
Daniel searched something.
Then turned the screen toward me.
Cedar Ridge Consulting LLC.
Registered agent: Robert Collins.
My wife had transferred fifty thousand dollars to her father.
The man she had told me abandoned her decades ago.
The man who might be connected to her sister’s death.
The man who had custody of Noah.
The man who might have Ethan.
I started the engine.
“Send me Rachel’s location.”
Daniel frowned.
“How?”
“Family tracking.”
I opened the app.
Rachel had forgotten we shared location data.
Her blue dot was moving west.
Out of Denver.
Toward the foothills.
“She’s heading toward Golden.”
Rachel heard me.
“James, no.”
“So that’s where your father is?”
“Don’t follow me.”
“Is Ethan there?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then I’m following you.”
“You don’t understand my father.”
“No, Rachel. I don’t understand anyone in your family.”
“James.”
Her voice changed.
Genuine panic.
“If he sees you, he will use Ethan against you.”
“He already took him.”
“You don’t know that.”
“The note had your secret name on it.”
“It said Noah.”
“Exactly.”
She was quiet.
Then she whispered, “Call the police.”
I blinked.
“What?”
“Call them now.”
I looked at Daniel.
Rachel continued.
“Tell them Patricia and Ethan are missing. Give them my father’s name.”
“Where are you going?”
“To keep him talking.”
“Rachel—”
“I already lost your trust.”
Her voice cracked.
“I’m not losing our son too.”
The call ended.
Five minutes later, as we raced west, my phone rang again.
Unknown number.
I answered.
A boy whispered, “Dad?”
Everything inside me stopped.
“Ethan?”
“I can’t talk loud.”
“Where are you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Where’s Grandma?”
A pause.
“I think she’s asleep.”
My blood froze.
“Ethan, listen to me. Can you see anything?”
“Trees.”
“What else?”
“A red barn.”
“Anything written down? A road sign?”
“No.”
Then another voice spoke in the background.
A boy’s voice.
Older sounding, but not by much.
“Give me the phone.”
Ethan whispered, “Noah says we have to go.”
I gripped the phone.
“Ethan, do what he says.”
Then Noah came on the line.
“Mr. Miller?”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t take Ethan.”
I looked at Daniel.
“Who did?”
Noah breathed hard.
“My grandfather.”
“Robert?”
“Yes.”
“Where is he?”
“He went to meet Rachel.”
I swallowed.
“Why did he take Ethan?”
Noah’s answer came fast.
“Because he found out Ethan isn’t Daniel’s son.”
I closed my eyes.
“Then whose son is he?”
May you like
For one second, there was only static.
Then Noah said, “Yours.”
