I read the name three times before my mind accepted that the letters weren’t rearranging themselves.
Luke’s older brother. Ethan’s uncle. The man who stood beside Luke at our wedding, bought Ethan his first bicycle, and whom Ethan called Uncle Mike with absolute affection. The name was printed right beside a genetic sample number linked to the pregnancy that gave me my son. Underneath it, someone had scrawled: PATIENT MUST NEVER BE INFORMED.
My fingers went numb.
Jenna leaned over my shoulder. “What does that mean?”
I couldn’t answer. Kayla could.
“Oh God,” she whispered, her voice so faint I turned to look at her. She had turned entirely gray.
“You knew?” I asked.
“No.”
“Don’t lie to me again.”
“I swear.”
“You knew there was a clinic mistake.”
“Yes.”
“You knew Luke paid them.”
“Yes.”
“You knew there was a man whose sample might have been used.”
“Yes.”
“And now you expect me to believe you had no idea that man might have been your other son?”
Her eyes brimmed with tears. “I didn’t.”
I stood so abruptly the chair scraped backward. “Where is Michael?”
Kayla looked toward the floor. “Seattle.”
“Call him.”
“Lori—”
“Call him.”
“He won’t answer if he sees my number.”
“Then I’ll call.”
I pulled out my phone. Michael’s contact was still there. We hadn’t spoken in months—not because of any drama, but because life simply got busy with Christmas texts, birthday messages, and family photographs. Normal things.
I pressed Call.
One ring. Two. Three. Voicemail.
I called again. Voicemail.
“Text him,” Jenna said.
I typed: I know about North Valley. Call me.
The typing bubble appeared almost immediately, vanished, then appeared again. My heart began to pound.
Finally: Where are you?
I stared at the screen. Not What are you talking about? Not North Valley?
Where are you? He knew.
I typed: Jenna’s.
The reply came within seconds: Do not go home.
I felt cold all over. Why?
No answer. I called again, and this time Michael picked up, breathless. “Lori.”
“Tell me what happened.”
“Is Ethan with you?”
“Yes.”
“Is Luke there?”
“No.”
“Keep it that way.”
Kayla covered her mouth. I put the phone on speaker. “Michael,” I said, “your name is on Ethan’s clinic record.”
Silence. Then a long exhale. “I was afraid they’d finally release it.”
“Release what?”
“Not over the phone.”
“You don’t get to decide that.”
“I’m getting on a flight.”
“No. You tell me now.”
“Lori, there are things in those records that were changed.”
“By who?”
“I don’t know all of them.”
“Then tell me what you do know.”
Another silence. “My sample should never have been at North Valley.”
I looked at Kayla. “What does that mean?”
“I was never their patient.”
My stomach tightened. “But the record—”
“Was created after the fact.”
Jenna mouthed, After?
Michael continued. “Eight years ago, I donated genetic material through a completely different medical research program. Anonymous. Regulated. I didn’t know North Valley had any access to it.”
“Then how did it end up attached to my name?”
“I’ve spent seven years trying to find that out.”
I froze. “You knew for seven years?”
“Yes.”
“And you said nothing to me?”
“Luke begged me not to.”
I let out an ugly laugh. “Of course he did.”
“It wasn’t that simple.”
“It is incredibly simple. My body. My pregnancy. My child.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.” My voice cracked. “For seven years, you all looked me in the face while I believed I knew how my own son was conceived.”
Michael didn’t defend himself, which somehow made it worse. Then he said, “Lori, Ethan may not be biologically mine.”
I stopped. “What?”
Kayla looked up sharply.
Michael continued. “The record with my name is not proof.”
“Pero your sample number—”
“Was one of several numbers altered.”
My hand tightened around the phone. “How many?”
“I found evidence of at least twelve.”
Jenna sat down heavily. “Twelve families?”
“Possibly.”
“What was North Valley doing?”
Michael’s voice lowered. “There was an internal whistleblower.”
The sensitive word caught in my mind. “Who?”
“Where is she?”
“She disappeared from the public record six years ago.”
The exact same period Daniel Reed had supposedly disappeared. I looked at Kayla. “Daniel.”
Michael went silent. “You know him too?”
“Yes.”
“Then why are you breathing like that?”
“Because Evelyn just called me.”
“And?”
“She canceled tomorrow.”
“Why?”
“She said someone found out she was talking.”
My skin prickled. “Who?”
“She wouldn’t say.” Then Michael spoke even more quietly. “But before she hung up, she gave me one name.”
I gripped the phone. “What name?”
“Rebecca Bennett.” Ethan’s teacher.
