Chapter 7 - The DNA Test That Should Have Been Impossible
Richard Sterling stood in front of twenty cameras and called me a fraud.
I watched from Evelyn’s library.
“My aunt is grieving,” he said. “Unfortunately, certain individuals appear to have exploited unresolved trauma from her past.”
Certain individuals.
Me.
Richard continued.
“Our family independently obtained genetic evidence demonstrating that Ms. Claire Bennett is not biologically related to Evelyn Sterling.”
Evelyn stared at the television.
“That is impossible.”
Samuel turned the volume down.
“Not impossible.”
She looked at him.
“If he fabricated a report.”
“He may not need to.”
I frowned.
“What does that mean?”
Samuel opened his laptop.
“The initial match came from an archived DNA profile linked to Evelyn.”
“So?”
“When was that profile created?”
Evelyn thought.
“Twenty years ago.”
“By whom?”
“My private investigator.”
Samuel looked at Lucas.
Lucas understood first.
“Oh, hell.”
“What?”
Lucas stood.
“If someone substituted the sample twenty years ago, then the database profile might not be Evelyn’s DNA.”
I felt dizzy.
“So what matched me?”
Nobody answered.
We did a new test that afternoon.
No intermediaries.
A physician collected saliva from both of us while Samuel filmed the chain of custody.
Forty-eight hours.
Longest two days of my life.
Grant used them well.
His attorneys filed another motion.
His public relations firm leaked stories questioning my credibility.
Anonymous “friends” told blogs I had always fantasized about finding wealthy biological parents.
Lorraine gave an interview.
Vanessa disappeared into protective custody after giving investigators the drive.
And Richard continued his media tour.
Evelyn barely slept.
Neither did I.
The result arrived at 6:07 p.m. on Sunday.
Samuel opened it.
I watched his face.
Then Evelyn’s.
“What?”
He turned the page toward us.
Probability of maternity:
99.9998%.
Evelyn covered her mouth.
I stared at the number.
It shouldn’t have surprised me.
Yet seeing proof felt different.
Real.
Final.
She was my mother.
Evelyn looked at me but did not reach out.
She waited.
So I reached first.
I hugged her.
Her entire body shook.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered into my hair.
“For what?”
“Everything.”
I closed my eyes.
“You didn’t take me.”
“No.”
“You didn’t abandon me.”
“No.”
“Then stop apologizing for surviving it.”
She cried harder.
That night should have felt victorious.
Instead, Lucas called with the question that changed everything.
“If the old sample wasn’t Evelyn’s,” he said, “whose was it?”
They tested the archived sample.
It belonged to a female.
Close relative.
Not Evelyn.
Her sister.
Margaret Sterling Hale.
Evelyn went silent when she heard the name.
“I haven’t spoken to Margaret in twelve years.”
“Why?” I asked.
“She supported my father when I accused him of taking you.”
Margaret lived in London.
Widowed.
Quiet.
Rarely photographed.
Samuel arranged a call.
She refused.
Then Evelyn sent one message:
Claire is alive.
Margaret called thirty seconds later.
Her face appeared on the screen.
She looked like Evelyn.
Older around the eyes.
More fragile.
When she saw me, she began sobbing.
“Oh, God.”
Evelyn’s voice hardened.
“You knew.”
Margaret shook her head.
“Not then.”
“When?”
“After Father died.”
“That was eighteen years ago.”
“I found papers.”
“And you said nothing?”
“I was afraid.”
“Of what?”
Margaret looked away.
“Charles.”
Richard’s father.
Evelyn stood.
“Charles has been dead for eight years.”
“I know.”
“So why didn’t you tell me afterward?”
Margaret began crying.
“Because Richard came to me.”
My skin prickled.
“What did he want?” Samuel asked.
“He knew Evelyn was still searching.”
Margaret wiped her face.
“He said if the truth came out, the family could lose everything.”
“What truth?”
Her eyes moved toward me.
“The buildings.”
Daniel Mercer’s allegations.
Evelyn went pale.
Margaret continued.
“Father covered up structural defects in at least eleven commercial properties. Daniel found the reports. Charles helped Father bury them.”
My biological father had died after threatening to expose the truth.
I felt cold.
“Was Daniel’s accident really an accident?”
Margaret did not answer.
That was answer enough.
Evelyn sank into a chair.
“Did Charles kill him?”
“I don’t know.”
“Margaret.”
“I don’t know!”
She sobbed.
“But Father paid someone after the accident.”
“How much?”
“Five hundred thousand dollars.”
The room went silent.
Samuel asked, “Who?”
Margaret looked directly into the camera.
“A transportation company.”
My stomach dropped.
“What company?”
“It doesn’t exist anymore.”
She gave the name.
Lucas began typing.
I watched his face.
“What?”
He stared at the screen.
“Pierce Freight Services.”
I stopped breathing.
Grant’s grandfather had founded Pierce Freight Services.
Grant had inherited its remaining assets before launching his own company.
Evelyn looked at me.
Neither of us spoke.
The connection was suddenly horrifying.
My grandfather had stolen me.
My father may have been killed.
And the family of the man I married may have been involved.
“Grant knew,” I whispered.
Samuel nodded slowly.
“At least something.”
That explained the call Vanessa overheard.
Your father should have destroyed the files thirty years ago.
Not his father.
Richard’s.
I grabbed my phone.
“I’m calling Grant.”
“No,” Samuel said.
“I need to know.”
“He will lie.”
“I still need to hear him do it.”
Before anyone could stop me, I called.
Grant answered.
“Claire?”
His voice sounded wary.
“Did your grandfather kill my father?”
Silence.
Total silence.
Then he whispered:
“Who told you about Daniel Mercer?”
My blood turned to ice.
May you like
He knew the name.
And in that instant, I knew my marriage had been built on a lie much older than our wedding day.
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