Chapter 2 - THE TEST DEREK NEVER WANTED ME TO SEE
Table of Contents 6
01Chapter 1 - THE THREE SECONDS THAT CHANGED EVERYTHING
02Chapter 2 - THE TEST DEREK NEVER WANTED ME TO SEE
03Chapter 3 - MARIA TOLD ME WHY GABRIEL DIED
04Chapter 4 - THE MOMENT VINCENT CHOSE NOT TO BECOME THE MAN EVERYONE FEARED
05Chapter 5 - THE NIGHT MY SON WAS BORN
06Chapter 6 - THE BOY WHO INHERITED A NAME WITHOUT BECOMING ITS PRISONER
I laughed.
Not because anything was funny.
Because the alternative was believing my entire marriage had just become even worse than I understood.
“This is ridiculous.”
Vincent nodded.
“Possibly.”
“I know who I slept with.”
“I’m not questioning that.”
“Then what are you saying?”
“That paternity can be manipulated on paper before it is ever questioned biologically.”
I stared at him.
He explained carefully.
Derek had recently paid a private genetic laboratory through Black River Holdings.
No reason listed.
Three thousand eight hundred dollars.
Two tests.
One adult male.
One fetal sample.
My stomach turned.
“I never gave a fetal sample.”
“Maybe you didn’t knowingly.”
I remembered my twenty-week prenatal appointment.
Routine blood work.
Derek insisted on coming.
He carried the tubes to the front desk while I used the bathroom because the technician was overwhelmed.
I had joked that he was finally being helpful.
My face went cold.
Vincent saw.
“What?”
I told him.
He immediately called someone.
Not a threat.
An investigator.
He asked for the laboratory name connected to the payment.
Then he turned back.
“Your prenatal clinic?”
I told him.
He wrote it down.
“This doesn’t mean anything yet.”
Good.
He did not turn suspicion into fact.
I needed that.
The obstetrician returned and reminded me I could leave after another hour of monitoring.
Then she asked whether I felt safe going home.
“No.”
The word came more easily the second time.
She brought in a hospital social worker.
Her name was Renee.
She explained shelter placement, emergency protective orders, transportation, and domestic-violence advocacy.
Vincent stayed outside during the conversation because I asked him to.
No argument.
That mattered.
Renee found a confidential apartment associated with a women’s program rather than a congregate shelter because of my late pregnancy.
I almost accepted.
Then she received a call.
Her face changed.
“The placement address was accessed.”
“What?”
“Someone opened the referral file from outside the hospital network.”
My stomach dropped.
“How?”
“I don’t know yet.”
Vincent, waiting in the hall, heard enough to become alert.
Renee looked uncomfortable when I asked whether I could speak to him.
She clearly knew who he was.
Still, she respected my choice.
Vincent entered.
The moment I told him, he said, “You cannot go there.”
I stared.
He closed his eyes briefly.
“Sorry.”
Then corrected himself.
“I don’t think it’s safe.”
Better.
“Where do you suggest?”
“A property Derek does not know exists.”
“Yours.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
He nodded immediately.
“Fine.”
That surprised me again.
“Then?”
“Hotel under a name not connected to you.”
“Still yours?”
“No.”
“Your people?”
“Only if you approve.”
I looked toward Renee.
She said carefully, “A private hotel can be safer if the location is confidential, but I recommend law enforcement know where you are.”
Vincent nodded.
“Agreed.”
For a mafia boss, he was strangely cooperative with paperwork when it mattered.
We arranged it.
Two female security officers hired through a licensed private firm.
Not Vincent’s usual men.
My condition.
He paid.
I told him I would reimburse him.
He said, “No.”
I stared.
He corrected himself again.
“If that matters to you, yes.”
Apparently I was training Chicago’s most feared man in consent one sentence at a time.
At the hotel, the room felt too quiet.
No Derek.
No footsteps outside the bathroom.
No need to listen to how cabinet doors closed in order to judge someone’s mood.
I should have slept.
Instead, I stared at the ceiling and thought about Maria.
My sister was nine years older.
When our mother died, Maria practically raised me.
She taught me to braid my hair.
Filled out college applications.
Lent me money for my first apartment.
Then she married Paul.
He was charming.
Always talking about investments.
Six months ago, Maria called saying they were moving to Phoenix for a business opportunity.
She sounded tired.
But happy enough.
What if she had never left Chicago?
At 3:12 a.m., someone knocked.
I sat up.
One of the female security officers called through the door.
“Ms. Alvarez? It’s Renee from the hospital, accompanied by Detective Walsh.”
Elena Alvarez.
My maiden name.
I opened.
Detective Walsh entered with the social worker.
His expression was serious.
“We located your sister’s vehicle.”
My heart stopped.
“Where?”
“Parking structure near Midway.”
“Empty?”
“Yes.”
“Blood?”
“No.”
I exhaled slightly.
Then he continued.
“Her passport was inside.”
If Maria had moved to Arizona, she would not need it.
But she was meticulous.
She would never leave important documents sitting in a car for six months.
“What about Paul?”
“His phone is active in Chicago.”
So Vincent’s photograph was real.
Then Walsh placed a bank statement on the table.
Maria’s checking account.
Several withdrawals.
Large.
All made by Paul.
The last one yesterday.
Then one deposit.
From Black River Holdings.
Twenty-five thousand dollars.
My stomach turned.
“Maria worked for them?”
“We don’t know.”
“What did she do?”
“She was a bookkeeper before moving, correct?”
“Yes.”
That was the connection.
Maria kept books for small businesses.
Paul handled property deals.
Derek collected money.
Black River laundered it.
Maybe Maria saw numbers she wasn’t supposed to see.
“Is Paul under arrest?”
“Not yet.”
“Why?”
“We need enough.”
I laughed bitterly.
“My sister may be missing.”
“I know.”
“No.”
I looked at him.
“Stop saying that.”
He accepted it.
Fair.
Then Vincent called.
I almost ignored it.
Answered.
“We found the lab.”
“What?”
“The genetic testing.”
My stomach tightened.
“And?”
“The fetal sample was compared to Derek.”
I stopped breathing.
“Result?”
“Excluded.”
Everything went silent.
“What does that mean?”
His voice became careful.
“Derek is not the biological father of your child.”
I sat down.
Impossible.
“I didn’t cheat.”
“I believe you.”
“Then how?”
A pause.
“There is another test.”
“What?”
“The same fetal sample compared to another man.”
My heart pounded.
“Who?”
“I don’t have the name yet.”
“Why not?”
“The lab used an identification number.”
“Then get it.”
“We’re trying.”
I pressed one hand against my stomach.
The baby moved.
Not Derek’s.
But whose?
Then a memory arrived.
Eight months earlier.
Before Derek and I married legally at the courthouse, we had separated briefly after one of his early violent episodes.
Three weeks.
I stayed with Maria.
I drank too much one night after learning Derek had been seeing someone else.
Maria’s neighbor, Gabriel, stayed with me while she handled an emergency bookkeeping job.
Gabriel and I had been friends since high school.
One night.
One terrible, lonely, consensual night I had buried under guilt when Derek begged me back.
I never told him.
Could Gabriel be—
No.
He had moved away shortly afterward.
Or so I thought.
Vincent called my name.
“Elena?”
“I know who it might be.”
I told him.
Silence.
“Gabriel what?”
“Gabriel Moretti.”
The silence deepened.
“What?”
“Maria’s old neighbor.”
“Full name.”
“Gabriel Anthony Moretti.”
Vincent did not speak for several seconds.
Then he whispered something I had not expected.
“My brother.”
My blood ran cold.
“You have a brother named Gabriel?”
“Yes.”
“Where is he?”
Vincent’s voice changed.
“Dead.”
I stopped breathing.
“How long?”
“Eight months.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
Exactly when Gabriel supposedly moved away.
“How did he die?”
“Car accident.”
Of course.
Another convenient story.
Then Vincent said something worse.
“Gabriel lived in Phoenix.”
“No.”
“Elena.”
“No. He lived next door to Maria in Chicago.”
Vincent became quiet.
“Then my brother lied to me too.”
I stared at the dark hotel window.
“What does this mean?”
“I don’t know yet.”
Then he added, “But if that child is Gabriel’s, someone inside Black River knew before either of us did.”
“Why would that matter?”
Vincent’s answer made the room feel smaller.
“Because Gabriel was supposed to inherit half of everything I control.”
I closed my eyes.
“And if he had a child?”
“That child inherits his share.”
There it was.
Not love.
Not paternity drama.
Money.
Power.
Succession.
My unborn baby had become valuable before taking a first breath.
Then Detective Walsh’s phone rang.
He answered.
His face changed.
“Where?”
He looked toward me.
“We found Maria.”
I stood.
“Alive?”
He hesitated.
“Alive.”
Relief hit so hard I almost fell.
“Where?”
“County hospital.”
“What happened?”
Walsh swallowed.
“She was admitted under a false name after being found unconscious in an abandoned apartment.”
My eyes filled.
“Can I see her?”
“Yes.”
Then he added something that changed everything again.
“She was holding a flash drive when paramedics found her.”
“What’s on it?”
“We haven’t opened it yet.”
Vincent, still on speaker, answered quietly.
“I think I know.”
I looked toward the phone.
“What?”
“Gabriel’s accounts.”
My stomach tightened.
“Why would Maria have them?”
“Because my brother was investigating Black River before he died.”
Silence.
Then Vincent said, “And apparently your sister was helping him.”
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