Chapter 7 - The Secret About NoahI knew something was wrong the moment Arthur called me at 5:00 AM.
“Evelyn.”
“What happened?”
“There's a problem with Noah's records.”
I sat upright.
“What kind of problem?”
“His birth certificate.”
My blood went cold.
“What about it?”
“The original file has been accessed.”
“By whom?”
“We don't know.”
I was already out of bed.
Noah was sleeping beside me.
I watched him for a moment.
His little face was peaceful.
He had no idea adults were fighting over pieces of paper that could change his entire world.
I called Arthur back.
“Bring everything to the penthouse.”
Thirty minutes later, the file was on my table.
I opened it.
The birth certificate was legitimate.
Noah was my son.
Daniel was listed as the father.
Nothing was wrong.
Then Arthur placed another document beside it.
A medical record.
From the hospital where Noah was born.
One line had been blacked out.
I looked at Arthur.
“What's that?”
“We recovered it from an old archive.”
“Open it.”
He hesitated.
“Evelyn, you need to understand—”
“Open it.”
Arthur unfolded the page.
My eyes moved down.
Then stopped.
PATERNITY TEST REQUESTED.
My hands became numb.
“Who requested this?”
Arthur looked at me.
“Daniel.”
I stared at the document.
“That can't be right.”
“It was filed eleven days after Noah was born.”
I remembered that period.
Daniel had been exhausted.
We had barely slept.
He had held Noah for the first time and cried.
He had promised me he would always protect us.
I had believed him.
Arthur continued.
“The test was never completed.”
“Why?”
“Because someone canceled it.”
“Who?”
Arthur didn't answer.
He didn't need to.
I already knew.
Margaret.
My mother-in-law had always treated Noah differently.
Too carefully.
Too suspiciously.
I remembered her once saying:
“He doesn't look much like a Hawthorne.”
At the time, I had ignored it.
Now the memory felt like a knife.
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
A woman's voice whispered:
“Evelyn, don't let them test Noah.”
I froze.
“Who are you?”
“You don't remember me.”
“Who are you?”
“I was there the night Noah was born.”
The call ended.
Arthur stood.
“Who was it?”
“I don't know.”
But somewhere deep inside me, I felt the first crack appear in a memory I had trusted for three years.
That night at the hospital.
Daniel had left the room.
Margaret had arrived.
There had been an argument.
And there was one nurse who had kept looking at me strangely.
A nurse whose name I could no longer remember.
Across town, Daniel opened the file Richard had given him.
A second paternity report.
This one claimed something impossible.
The father listed was not Daniel.
Daniel's hands trembled.
“Who is this?”
Richard said nothing.
Daniel looked at the name.
May you like
Then whispered:
“Victor Hale.”
