Chapter 4 - Ninety-Nine Point Nine Nine Percent)
The hospital administrator insisted that DNA results would normally take days.
Alexander solved that problem the way Alexander solved most logistical problems.
Money.
Not bribery.
Resources.
He paid for an independent accredited laboratory to send technicians immediately, requested documented chain-of-custody procedures, and hired two external attorneys to witness every sample.
Mara watched all of it from a corner of the private consultation room.
“You think everyone can be bought.”
Alexander looked at her.
“No. I think evidence can be protected.”
She had no answer to that.
The boys treated the cheek swabs as entertainment.
Milo asked whether DNA could determine who was strongest.
Mason asked whether it could reveal secret superpowers.
Max wanted to know whether identical brothers had identical DNA.
Micah corrected the technician twice about terminology.
Alexander watched them with an expression Mara could not read.
After the samples were collected, the technician left.
An uncomfortable silence followed.
The four boys sat on the floor building a fortress out of medical pamphlets.
Alexander stood near the window.
Mara remained by the door.
Eventually he said, “Are they healthy?”
She looked at him.
“Yes.”
“All four?”
“Micah has mild asthma.”
Micah looked up.
“I barely have asthma.”
“You had pneumonia three months ago.”
“That was not statistically my fault.”
Alexander’s mouth twitched.
Mara hated that she noticed.
He looked at Milo.
“What about him?”
“Peanut allergy.”
Milo nodded seriously.
“Peanuts are my enemy.”
“Mason?”
“Nothing.”
Mason grinned.
“I’m superior.”
Max pushed him.
Mara sighed.
“Max gets migraines occasionally.”
Alexander absorbed each fact.
Then he asked the question Mara feared.
“Birthdays?”
She told him.
He turned toward the window again.
His shoulders tightened.
“I was in New York that day.”
Mara said nothing.
“I remember.”
His voice dropped.
“My mother told me you had given birth two days earlier.”
Mara’s stomach twisted.
“She told you that?”
“She brought me the certificates.”
Mara looked away.
“She brought them to me too.”
Alexander turned.
“What?”
“After they were born.”
He stared at her.
“She came to the clinic?”
Mara nodded.
“She told me you believed they were dead.”
Alexander walked closer.
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“Because she threatened them.”
His face changed.
“How?”
“She made it clear that if I contacted you, she could reach the boys.”
“You believed her?”
Mara laughed bitterly.
“I had just woken from emergency surgery in a private clinic I never agreed to enter. My phone was gone. My identification had disappeared. Four government death certificates existed for my living children. Yes, Alexander. I believed she had influence.”
He stopped.
“How did you end up at that clinic?”
Mara’s eyes hardened.
“I was supposed to deliver at Mercy General.”
“I know.”
“No, you knew what I told you before you left.”
She took a breath.
“The night labor started, I called your number.”
“I never received a call.”
“Your assistant answered.”
Alexander frowned.
“Which assistant?”
“Daniel Price.”
His confusion deepened.
“Daniel left my company a month before that.”
Mara went still.
“What?”
“He resigned before the Singapore trip.”
“He answered your private line.”
“That was impossible.”
“Apparently not.”
They stared at each other.
The room suddenly felt colder.
Mara continued.
“He told me you were unavailable and that Victoria had arranged a specialist.”
“I never authorized that.”
“I know that now.”
Alexander rubbed his jaw.
“What happened next?”
“A driver came. I thought he was taking me to Mercy.”
She swallowed.
“I was already having contractions. I didn’t notice we left the city until too late.”
Alexander’s hands curled into fists.
“Who was driving?”
“I never learned his name.”
“What did he look like?”
“Forties. Scar near his right ear.”
Alexander’s expression sharpened.
“What?”
“You know him?”
“No.”
But Mara heard the lie.
“Alexander.”
He looked away.
“My father had a security chief when I was a teenager.”
Mara’s heart began pounding.
“Name?”
“Graham Pike.”
“Scar?”
Alexander nodded slowly.
“Near his right ear.”
Mara sat down.
Pike had supposedly died ten years earlier.
At least that was what the Whitaker family had announced.
Alexander called someone immediately.
“Gabriel.”
Mara looked up.
“Who is Gabriel?”
“My investigator.”
A man answered.
Alexander said, “Find everything on Graham Pike. Do not use Whitaker servers. Do not notify family counsel. I want death records, property, aliases, financial activity.”
He paused.
“And Gabriel?”
Another pause.
“Assume my mother is monitoring us.”
Alexander hung up.
Mara studied him.
“You really didn’t know.”
He looked at her.
“No.”
The anger she had carried for six years did not disappear.
But it shifted.
That was almost worse.
Hating Alexander had been easier.
At 4:12 a.m., the lab called.
The results were ready.
Alexander, Mara, and all four boys gathered in the consultation room.
The independent attorney opened the report.
Alexander did not sit.
Mara could barely breathe.
The attorney looked up.
“Regarding Alexander Charles Whitaker and the four tested minors, the probability of biological paternity exceeds ninety-nine point nine nine percent in each case.”
Silence.
Milo whispered, “So?”
The attorney smiled.
“So he is your biological father.”
Mason looked at Alexander.
“Really?”
Alexander opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
Max stood slowly.
Micah frowned.
“You look like you might faint.”
Alexander laughed once.
Then his eyes filled.
Mara had never seen Alexander cry.
Not once.
He crouched.
The boys surrounded him with questions.
“Do you have a pool?”
“Why are you so tall?”
“Do you own a plane?”
“Did you know we existed?”
That question stopped everything.
Alexander looked at Max.
“No.”
“Why?”
Alexander’s face broke.
“Because someone lied to me.”
Milo looked at Mara.
“Did Mom lie?”
“No.”
Alexander answered immediately.
Mara stared at him.
He continued.
“Your mother protected you.”
Milo considered this.
Then he put one small hand on Alexander’s shoulder.
“Okay.”
That single word nearly destroyed him.
A knock sounded.
Gabriel Reed entered.
Dark green suit.
Exhausted eyes.
Phone in hand.
Alexander stood.
“That was fast.”
Gabriel glanced at Mara and the boys.
Then looked at Alexander.
“Graham Pike isn’t dead.”
Mara felt all the warmth leave the room.
Alexander’s voice dropped.
“Where is he?”
Gabriel turned his phone around.
A surveillance photograph filled the screen.
Taken forty-eight hours earlier.
Graham Pike was walking out of a private care facility in Vermont.
Beside him was an elderly man in a wheelchair.
Alexander leaned closer.
His face emptied.
Mara whispered, “Who is that?”
Alexander stared at the photograph.
“My father.”
Mara frowned.
“Your father died twelve years ago.”
Alexander did not look away.
“I buried him.”
Gabriel quietly replied, “Apparently you buried someone.”
May you like
And beneath the photograph was the name of the facility.
HAWTHORNE HOUSE.
