Chapter 4 - My Brother’s BloodI didn’t sleep.
I sat beside Lily’s hospital bed until sunrise, listening to the rhythmic electronic pulse of our son’s heartbeat and staring at the anonymous number on my phone.
Ask your father which of his sons is actually his.
It sounded insane.
It also sounded exactly like the kind of sentence that had destroyed families far stronger than mine.
At seven, Lily woke.
I didn’t want to tell her.
She had endured enough.
But secrets were what brought us here.
So I showed her everything.
The old article.
My mother’s connection to Richard Vale.
The anonymous call.
The photograph of Nathan.
Lily read it twice.
“Do you think Nathan isn’t your father’s son?”
“I don’t know what I think anymore.”
Nathan was four years younger than me.
Growing up, we had been opposites.
I followed rules.
Nathan broke them.
I studied finance.
He raced motorcycles, dated actresses, and once got arrested in Monaco for climbing onto a hotel roof after losing a bet.
Mother adored him.
She protected him no matter what he did.
I had always assumed he was simply her favorite.
Now the word favorite felt different.
Lily touched my hand.
“You need to talk to your father.”
“I tried.”
“Not on the phone.”
She was right.
I drove to my parents’ Gold Coast townhouse at ten that morning.
Police had already interviewed my mother.
I knew because Detective Martinez had called.
Victoria denied intentionally harming Lily.
She claimed Richard Vale had been invited because she feared Lily was experiencing “prenatal psychosis.”
She claimed Lily smashed the picture herself.
She claimed the injection was a sedative administered after Lily “became dangerously irrational.”
She also had three scratches on her wrist.
Self-defense evidence, according to her attorney.
By the time I reached the townhouse, two black SUVs were parked outside.
Private security.
My mother was preparing for war.
The housekeeper opened the door.
“Mr. Adam.”
“Is my father here?”
“Yes, but—”
I walked past her.
Dad was in his library.
He stood the moment I entered.
“Adam.”
“Is Nathan your biological son?”
His face changed.
Barely.
But I saw it.
That tiny flicker was enough.
I shut the door.
“Answer me.”
“Where did you hear that?”
“Someone called me.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
His jaw tightened.
“What exactly did they say?”
“That I should ask which of your sons is actually yours.”
My father walked to the liquor cabinet.
It wasn’t even noon.
He poured two fingers of bourbon.
“Dad.”
He drank.
I had never seen him look old before.
My father was sixty-three, silver-haired, disciplined, physically fit.
Now he looked seventy-five.
“Your mother and I struggled to conceive after you,” he said.
I said nothing.
“We wanted another child.”
“Nathan?”
“Yes.”
“Richard Vale treated her?”
“Yes.”
My stomach twisted.
“And?”
My father stared at the fireplace.
“Years later, I learned the fertility clinic had falsified certain donor records.”
My pulse hammered.
“What donor records?”
He looked at me.
“Nathan may not be mine.”
May.
The most cowardly word in the English language.
“Did you test him?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because he was my son.”
Biologically or not, I understood that.
But something still felt wrong.
“Did Mother know?”
My father laughed bitterly.
“Your mother knows everything she chooses to know.”
“What does that mean?”
“She refused testing.”
“Why?”
“She said DNA didn’t matter.”
“That’s interesting, considering she’s obsessed with my baby’s DNA.”
His face tightened.
“Exactly.”
I moved closer.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
He set down the glass.
“The Carter trust contains a bloodline provision.”
“I know.”
“No. Not all of it.”
Again.
Always another layer.
“If a trustee intentionally presents a non-biological descendant as a blood heir for purposes of succession, that trustee can be removed for fraud.”
I stared.
“If Nathan isn’t yours…”
“Your mother spent years positioning him inside Carter Meridian.”
It all became clear.
Nathan was executive vice president.
He controlled several subsidiaries.
Mother had spent a decade building alliances around him.
“If the truth came out…”
“She could lose everything.”
“And my child?”
“Your child creates a legitimate direct descendant whose rights eventually outrank Nathan’s position.”
My chest tightened.
“So Lily’s pregnancy threatens Mother twice.”
Dad nodded.
“It transfers influence away from her and creates incentives for scrutiny of Nathan’s lineage.”
I felt sick.
“Did Granddad suspect?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“He hated Richard Vale.”
“Why?”
“Because your grandfather believed Vale manipulated fertility procedures for wealthy families.”
I remembered the old disciplinary hearing.
“Did he have proof?”
“No.”
“Then why did he build the trust this way?”
“Because he distrusted your mother.”
That hurt even though it didn’t surprise me.
I paced toward the window.
“Why didn’t you tell me any of this before?”
“Because I wanted you out of it.”
“You let Mother harass my pregnant wife.”
“I did not know it had gone this far.”
“You knew enough.”
He flinched.
Good.
“You let her whisper that Lily was unfaithful. You let her poison me against my own wife.”
“I told Victoria to stop.”
“You tell her lots of things. She ignores you.”
“Adam—”
“And you stay.”
My father’s expression hardened.
“You think marriage is simple?”
“No. I think cowardice is.”
The word hit him.
I didn’t take it back.
The door opened.
My mother walked in.
She wore a cream blouse, tailored trousers, pearl earrings.
Not a hair out of place.
Her attorney stood behind her.
“Leave,” she told him.
He hesitated.
“Mother, whatever you say—”
“Leave.”
The attorney stepped away.
Victoria shut the door.
Then she slapped me.
Hard.
My head snapped to the side.
My father shouted, “Victoria!”
She was trembling.
Not with fear.
With fury.
“How dare you come into my home and accuse me of trying to kill my grandchild.”
I slowly turned toward her.
“You drugged my wife.”
“I tried to save her.”
“From what?”
“Herself.”
“Bullshit.”
Her eyes flashed.
“You have no idea what that woman has done to this family.”
“She married me.”
“She trapped you.”
“With a baby you’ve spent months trying to prove isn’t mine?”
“She knew exactly what pregnancy would trigger.”
I laughed.
“Lily didn’t even know about the trust.”
“You believe that?”
“Yes.”
“Then you are a bigger fool than I thought.”
My father stepped between us.
“Enough.”
“No,” I said.
I looked directly at my mother.
“Is Nathan Dad’s son?”
The silence became electric.
Her face changed.
Not much.
But enough.
“How dare you.”
“Answer.”
“Nathan is your brother.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
“He is David’s son in every way that matters.”
My father closed his eyes.
There it was.
Not denial.
Never denial.
“Does Nathan know?”
Mother’s jaw tightened.
“No.”
“Does Vale?”
Silence.
“Mother.”
“Richard was my doctor.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
She looked toward my father.
For the first time, fear appeared.
Real fear.
I understood.
Richard Vale held something over her.
Maybe records.
Maybe samples.
Maybe proof.
“Where is Vale?” I asked.
“I don’t know.”
“You were with him less than twelve hours ago.”
“He left after Lily attacked us.”
“Police can’t find him.”
“That isn’t my problem.”
“Your problem is that my wife has misoprostol in her bloodstream.”
Her face flickered.
Barely.
But I saw it.
“You know what that is,” I whispered.
She recovered.
“I’ve had children.”
“You knew it was in the tea?”
“No.”
“Did Vale put it there?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then why did you bring him?”
“Because Lily had threatened me.”
My father stared at her.
“When?”
Mother turned.
“What?”
“When did Lily threaten you?”
She blinked.
“Several times.”
Dad’s voice went colder.
“Show me.”
“David—”
“Messages. Emails. Recordings. Anything.”
Her face hardened.
“You’re taking his side?”
“I’m asking for evidence.”
“You spineless bastard.”
My father went completely still.
I had heard my mother insult people before.
Never him like that.
That was when I realized something important.
She was losing control.
And people like Victoria Carter became most dangerous when control slipped away.
My phone rang.
Detective Martinez.
I answered.
“Adam, where are you?”
“My parents’ house.”
“Leave.”
Her tone made me move immediately.
“Why?”
“We located Richard Vale’s car.”
“Where?”
“Parking garage near the river.”
“Is he there?”
“No.”
“What did you find?”
“Blood.”
I stopped.
My mother was watching me.
“What kind of blood?”
“We’re processing it.”
Then Martinez said something that made my eyes lock onto Victoria’s.
“And a hospital wristband with your wife’s name on it.”
“What?”
“Someone had printed an admission wristband for Lily before she ever arrived at the hospital.”
I stared at my mother.
“What date?”
Martinez told me.
The wristband had been printed three days earlier.
Three days before the attack.
My mother must have seen my face change.
“What is it?” Dad asked.
I ignored him.
“Detective, what does that mean?”
“It means someone may have planned for your wife to be admitted before the incident occurred.”
My mother took one step backward.
That tiny movement told me more than any confession could have.
I ended the call.
“You planned the hospital.”
Mother’s face hardened.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“A wristband was printed for Lily three days ago.”
Dad turned toward her.
“Victoria?”
She said nothing.
“Victoria.”
“I don’t know anything about a wristband.”
Then her phone rang.
She looked down.
And for the first time that morning, genuine terror crossed her face.
The caller ID said:
NATHAN.
She answered.
“Nathan?”
I could hear shouting through the speaker.
Then my brother’s voice came through, ragged and furious.
“Mom, why is there a man in my apartment saying he has proof you lied about who my father is?”
My mother turned white.
And somewhere beneath the shock, I understood.
May you like
Richard Vale wasn’t hiding.
He was making his move.
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