Chapter 8
Rachel stood on our porch holding the envelope.
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Then Dad stepped aside.
"Come in."
She hesitated.
Her eyes moved toward the street.
I looked past her.
A dark sedan was parked near the corner.
Its windows were tinted.
Rachel noticed me looking.
Her expression changed.
"We need to talk inside."
Dad closed the door.
Mom stood near the kitchen.
The moment she saw Rachel, she began crying.
"Rachel."
Rachel didn't smile.
"Claire."
I looked between them.
For seventeen years, these women had known something about my life.
And I'd known nothing.
I pointed toward the envelope.
"Is that the report?"
Rachel nodded.
My heart began pounding.
"Then open it."
She looked at Dad.
Then Mom.
Finally, she looked back at me.
"Jordan, I want you to understand something before you read it."
I shook my head.
"No."
Her expression softened.
"Please."
I felt anger rise.
"Everybody keeps telling me what I need to understand."
My voice cracked.
"I'm done waiting."
Rachel nodded slowly.
"You're right."
She handed me the envelope.
My fingers trembled.
The paper was old.
The seal had been broken and carefully taped closed.
I opened it.
Inside was a laboratory report.
Seventeen years old.
I scanned the first page.
My name appeared near the top.
Jordan Carter.
Then two names.
Marcus Carter.
Daniel Brooks.
My heart stopped.
I looked at the result.
My eyes moved across the page.
Then I read the conclusion.
Marcus Carter was excluded as the biological father.
Daniel Brooks was identified as the biological father with a probability exceeding 99.9 percent.
The room seemed to disappear.
I stared at the words.
Again.
And again.
My hands began shaking.
"No."
Dad stepped closer.
"Jordan."
I backed away.
"No."
My voice cracked.
"You're not my biological father?"
Marcus's eyes filled.
He nodded slowly.
"I guess not."
I looked toward Mom.
She was sobbing.
Then I looked at Rachel.
"Daniel Brooks is?"
She nodded.
"Yes."
For a moment, I couldn't breathe.
Seventeen years.
Seventeen birthdays.
Seventeen Christmas mornings.
And the man who raised me wasn't the man whose DNA I carried.
I looked at Marcus.
He was crying.
I'd only seen my father cry twice.
When his mother died.
And when I was hospitalized with pneumonia at eight.
Now tears streamed down his face.
I felt something inside me break.
"Dad..."
He stepped forward.
I didn't know whether to move toward him or away.
Then he said something that changed everything.
"Jordan, I don't care what that paper says."
My throat tightened.
He reached for my hand.
"I changed your diapers."
Tears filled his eyes.
"I taught you to walk."
I began crying.
"I stayed up when you were sick."
His voice broke.
"I sat through every terrible middle-school basketball game."
I laughed through my tears.
He smiled sadly.
"And I loved every minute."
I covered my face.
He pulled me into his arms.
"You're my son."
I held him tightly.
For a long moment, neither of us spoke.
Then Rachel cleared her throat.
"There's more."
I pulled away.
My stomach tightened.
"What?"
Rachel looked toward Mom.
"Daniel didn't just return for money."
I stared at her.
"Then why?"
She swallowed.
"He wanted to meet you."
I felt cold.
I looked at the report again.
Daniel Brooks.
My biological father.
A man I'd never known.
A man who'd apparently tried to extort my family.
A man who might be dangerous.
I didn't know what to feel.
"Why didn't he come sooner?"
Rachel's eyes filled.
"Because Harold threatened him."
My stomach twisted.
"Grandpa?"
She nodded.
"Harold told Daniel he'd make sure he never saw you if he challenged the arrangement."
I looked at Mom.
She was crying silently.
Rachel continued.
"Daniel accepted the settlement because he was broke and frightened."
I stared at her.
"But he kept coming back for money?"
Rachel looked ashamed.
"Yes."
I felt anger rise.
"That's not love."
She nodded slowly.
"No."
Then she added.
"But he also spent years asking about you."
My throat tightened.
"What did he ask?"
"Whether you were healthy."
I looked down.
"Whether you were happy."
My eyes filled.
"Whether Marcus treated you well."
I stared at Dad.
He looked devastated.
Rachel continued.
"Daniel made terrible choices. But he never stopped wondering about you."
I swallowed.
"Then why is he threatening Mom now?"
Rachel's expression darkened.
"Because he found out Harold lied about the settlement."
I frowned.
"What lie?"
She opened another folder.
"Daniel believed the money came from Harold personally."
I looked at her.
"And?"
"It came from a trust established for you."
My stomach twisted.
"A trust?"
Dad looked shocked.
"What trust?"
Rachel handed him a document.
"Harold created an account in Jordan's name after he was born."
I stared at her.
"Why?"
"To provide for his education and future."
My heart accelerated.
"Then what happened?"
Rachel looked toward Mom.
"Harold used money from that account to pay Daniel."
I stared at the floor.
My own grandfather had paid someone with money meant for me.
And he'd forged Marcus's signature to hide it.
I looked at Rachel.
"How much money is left?"
She hesitated.
"That's something we need to investigate."
My stomach tightened.
"Daniel wants it?"
She nodded.
"He believes he's entitled to the money Harold took."
I shook my head.
"But it wasn't his."
Rachel looked at me.
"I know."
Then she lowered her voice.
"And there's another problem."
I stared at her.
"What?"
"Daniel found out where the remaining trust records were kept."
My heart pounded.
"Where?"
Rachel looked toward the staircase.
"Your mother's bedroom."
The room went silent.
I stared at Mom.
She looked terrified.
I suddenly understood why someone kept going upstairs.
They weren't looking for me.
They were looking for documents.
Then Rachel whispered something that made my blood run cold.
"Daniel knows the records are hidden there."
I looked toward Dad.
May you like
He immediately reached for his phone.
And before he could make a call, we heard glass break upstairs.
