Chapter 4 - The Letters
The envelopes were genuine.
At least the handwriting appeared genuine.
I knew my father’s writing better than my own.
The first set said:
For the boys, age one.
Next:
age two.
Through six.
No individual letters.
Each envelope addressed collectively after someone later wrote names in another hand.
“That part isn’t your father,” Elena said.
“Who added names?”
“I don’t know.”
“How did you get them?”
“They came every year.”
“From whom?”
“No return address.”
Postmarked Manhattan.
Always one week before birthday.
I opened age-six envelope only after Elena nodded.
Inside:
Boys,
By six, you will already have learned that adults often confuse inheritance with love. They are not same thing.
If Nathan is in your lives, ask whether he listens before he decides.
If he is not, do not assume that absence means indifference. Sometimes people are kept apart by facts they were never given.
My throat tightened.
Dad had known possibility.
Then:
Your grandmother Victoria will believe family name must be protected from scandal. She is not always wrong about danger. She is often wrong about what deserves protection.
Victoria.
My mother.
Elena stared.
“I never opened them.”
“What?”
“They were for boys.”
“You let six-year-olds read this?”
“I read first one when they were babies to make sure it wasn’t dangerous. After that, I kept them sealed. Leo found box last month.”
“What did first say?”
She handed it.
Age one:
If you exist, then science settled one question adults refused to settle before I died.
If you do not exist, Martin Hale has been instructed to destroy these letters.
My pulse changed.
“If you exist.”
Meaning Dad had prepared them before knowing outcome.
Names were added later.
Someone kept administering his instructions after death.
Martin Hale.
I called him.
No answer.
Then assistant texted:
Martin died four years ago.
I had attended funeral.
Why hadn’t I remembered connection?
Because Martin was one of dozens of old family advisers.
Who took over trust administration?
His daughter:
Rebecca Hale.
I knew Rebecca.
She served on Mercer Foundation board.
Close to my mother.
Very close.
I called.
She answered.
“Nathan?”
“Did you send letters to Elena Marquez’s sons?”
Silence.
“I wondered when this would happen.”
“How?”
“Your father instructed it.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“He instructed me not to.”
I stood.
“What?”
“Until one of three triggering events.”
“What events?”
“Verified paternity. Elena voluntarily contacted you with independent counsel. Or your mother attempted to redirect the boys’ trust interests.”
“Did any happen?”
Rebecca paused.
“The third did.”
My stomach tightened.
“When?”
“Last month.”
Elena stared.
Mother had recently tried to move assets from Educational Trust.
Why?
“Your mother petitioned trustees to determine that the four descendant subtrusts had failed for lack of verified beneficiaries.”
“Could she?”
“She could ask.”
“Why now?”
“Because Mercer Development is restructuring before Serena Vance engagement.”
Of course.
Trust consolidation.
Marriage.
Control.
“Would Serena benefit?”
“Indirectly. The contemplated marital trust structure would be simpler if contingent descendant accounts were extinguished.”
Not villainous alone.
Financial housekeeping.
But if Mother knew boys existed?
Different.
“Did Victoria know where Elena was?”
Rebecca was silent.
“I need answer.”
“I can tell you what records show.”
Good.
“Tell me.”
“Your mother received annual status notices stating four potential beneficiaries remained unresolved.”
“So she knew there were four boys?”
“Potentially four children.”
“She told me Elena terminated pregnancy.”
Rebecca went quiet.
“That is not what trust file says.”
I sat down.
Mother told me Elena had “taken care of it.”
I had hated her for that too.
I never asked details.
Cowardice has consequences.
“What does file say?”
Rebecca answered:
“Four live births were reported.”
I closed eyes.
“And Mother received that?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Six years ago.”
My mother knew from birth.
Then Elena asked from across room:
“Ask her about DNA.”
I did.
“Was paternity ever tested?”
Rebecca hesitated.
“A sample was submitted.”
I stood again.
“What?”
“Six years ago.”
“Whose?”
“Children’s buccal samples and a sample represented as yours.”
“Result?”
“Excluded paternity.”
Elena’s face went white.
“I never submitted boys’ DNA.”
Neither of us had.
Rebecca understood.
“So the test was unauthorized?”
“If Elena did not submit samples, then yes, major issue.”
“Who requested it?”
Rebecca gave name.
May you like
Serena Vance.
Cliffhanger: Six years ago Serena had submitted a paternity test using samples neither Elena nor I had provided—and the result said I was not the father.
