Chapter 3
I stared at Aunt Nia.
"My mother was married before Dad?"
She looked away.
"Jordan, I shouldn't have said anything."
I felt anger rising.
"But you did."
She swallowed.
"Yes."
"Then tell me the truth."
She glanced toward the staircase.
"Your mother needs to explain."
I almost laughed.
"Mom has been lying to me for three days."
Nia's expression softened.
"I know."
I pointed toward the empty picture hook.
"Who is Daniel?"
She took a slow breath.
"Daniel Brooks."
The name meant nothing to me.
But the way she said it frightened me.
"Did he die?"
She hesitated.
"No."
My chest tightened.
"Then where is he?"
"I don't know."
I stared at her.
"You don't know?"
She shook her head.
"Not anymore."
I looked toward my room.
For seventeen years, I'd believed I knew my parents' story.
Dad met Mom at a charity event.
They dated for a year.
They married.
Then I was born.
I'd heard that story at every family gathering.
Now I wondered whether any of it was true.
"Does Dad know?"
Aunt Nia nodded.
"Yes."
I felt sick.
Both my parents knew.
Both had chosen not to tell me.
I rushed downstairs.
Dad was standing near the front door speaking to the locksmith.
Mom sat on the sofa.
I stopped in front of them.
"Who is Daniel Brooks?"
My mother went completely still.
Dad slowly lowered his phone.
Aunt Nia appeared behind me.
Mom looked toward her.
"Nia?"
My aunt's eyes filled.
"I'm sorry."
Mom covered her mouth.
I looked between my parents.
"Answer me."
Dad took a step closer.
"Jordan, we need to talk."
I stared at him.
"That seems to be everybody's favorite sentence today."
He looked hurt.
I didn't care.
Not yet.
"Was Mom married before you?"
Dad nodded.
"Yes."
My stomach twisted.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Mom began crying.
"Because it was a painful time."
I shook my head.
"That's not an answer."
Dad reached toward me.
I stepped back.
"Is Daniel the person who came upstairs?"
My mother started shaking.
Aunt Nia whispered, "Claire."
I stared at Mom.
"Is he?"
She looked up.
"I think so."
My chest tightened.
"You think so?"
She nodded.
"I saw him three nights ago."
My heart pounded.
"In your bedroom?"
Her eyes filled.
"Yes."
I stepped backward.
Dad looked stunned.
"Claire, you told me you were alone that night."
She began sobbing.
"I know."
He stared at her.
"You let a man into our bedroom while I was away?"
"No!"
Her voice cracked.
"He came through the bathroom window."
The room went silent.
I looked at Dad.
His face had become frighteningly calm.
"Why didn't you call the police?"
Mom whispered, "He threatened me."
My stomach dropped.
"With what?"
She looked toward me.
Tears streamed down her face.
"With something from our past."
I felt cold.
Dad sat down slowly.
"Claire, what did he want?"
She covered her face.
"Money."
Aunt Nia closed her eyes.
I stared at my mother.
"How much?"
She whispered, "Two hundred thousand dollars."
I almost laughed.
"Two hundred thousand?"
She nodded.
"He said he needed it by Friday."
Dad stood so quickly that the coffee table rattled.
"Friday is tomorrow."
Mom began crying harder.
"I know."
I looked toward the staircase.
The person who'd been hiding upstairs wasn't some random burglar.
He was Mom's ex-husband.
And he was demanding money.
I turned toward Dad.
"What is he threatening to tell?"
Neither parent answered.
My stomach twisted.
"Dad."
He looked at me.
"Jordan, some things are complicated."
I shook my head.
"Stop saying that!"
My voice echoed through the room.
"I'm seventeen, not seven!"
Dad closed his eyes.
I continued.
"Somebody broke into our house. Mom lied about it. Aunt Nia accused me of writing a note. And now you're telling me there's a secret worth two hundred thousand dollars?"
Mom began crying.
I looked directly at her.
"What is he threatening to reveal?"
She whispered, "Something about when you were born."
My heart stopped.
I stared at her.
"What?"
Dad immediately stepped forward.
"Claire, don't."
I turned toward him.
"Don't what?"
His face changed.
I had never seen him look so frightened.
Aunt Nia moved toward the sofa.
"Marcus, he deserves to know."
Dad shook his head.
"Not like this."
I felt my hands beginning to tremble.
"Know what?"
Mom covered her mouth.
I looked at her.
"Mom, please."
She lifted her eyes.
"I was still legally married to Daniel when I met Marcus."
The room seemed to tilt.
I stared at her.
"What?"
She began crying.
"Our marriage had been over emotionally for months, but the divorce wasn't finalized."
I swallowed.
"And then?"
She looked toward Dad.
He nodded slowly.
"Tell him."
Mom's voice broke.
"I found out I was pregnant."
My heart began pounding.
I looked between them.
"With me?"
She nodded.
For a moment, I couldn't hear anything.
Then I asked the question that terrified me.
"Who was my father?"
Mom began sobbing.
Dad looked away.
Aunt Nia covered her mouth.
And suddenly, I understood why nobody had wanted me to read the note.
HE IS LYING.
I looked at Marcus.
The man who had raised me.
The man who taught me basketball.
The man who held me when I broke my arm.
The man I'd called Dad every day of my life.
"Are you my biological father?"
His eyes filled.
He opened his mouth.
But no words came out.
I stepped backward.
"Dad?"
He whispered, "Jordan, I love you."
May you like
My heart shattered.
Because that wasn't the answer I'd asked for.
