Chapter 11 - Why Glen Really Met Me
Glen’s adoptive father had died two years before we met.
So he couldn’t have ordered the test eight years ago.
The company remained controlled by trustees.
One of them was Glen.
My husband stared at the corporate record.
“I never authorized this.”
His signature appeared anyway.
Forgery?
Possible.
We investigated.
The digital signature was valid.
Generated from Glen’s corporate token.
He remembered lending that token once.
To Clara.
She went pale.
I stared.
“Did you order a genetic identity check on me before Glen and I met?”
Clara closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
The room exploded.
Glen stood.
“Why?”
Clara whispered:
“Because I needed to know Megan was really Claire’s daughter.”
My mother.
Not a trust beneficiary.
Not a project code.
My mother’s daughter.
Why?
Before dying, Mom gave Clara instructions.
If Megan ever became involved with one of the Voss twins, verify her identity before telling them the truth.
I stared at her.
“That sounds insane.”
“It sounded insane to me too.”
Why would Mom predict that?
Because she knew Clara planned eventually to reconnect with Glen and Gabriel.
She knew the families’ lives might cross again through the medical foundation.
But romantic involvement?
No.
That part was not predicted.
Clara had seen my name on a charitable board list.
Realized Glen was attending the same fundraiser.
She panicked.
Ordered the test.
Then did nothing.
“Did you arrange for us to meet?”
“No.”
Glen looked at me.
“I swear.”
For once, evidence supported him.
Our first meeting really had been accidental.
The terrifying conspiracy softened slightly into a tragic coincidence surrounded by people who already knew too much.
Then I asked Clara:
“Why hide that you were Glen’s mother?”
“Because he asked me to.”
I looked at him.
Glen nodded.
His adoptive mother had been dying when he learned the truth.
He promised not to expose it publicly.
Then years passed.
Silence became habit.
That I understood.
Still hated.
But understood.
Then Gabriel laughed bitterly.
“You’re all arguing about eight years ago.”
We turned.
“Bell’s still doing it now.”
He produced a financial transfer.
Three months earlier.
Someone had paid Bell $75,000 to verify Ariel’s genetic relationship to Glen.
Not old records.
My daughter.
Who?
The payer:
Hale Family Holdings.
My father’s company.
Dad stood.
“I didn’t do that.”
The account authorization was issued by another officer.
My stepmother.
Clara.
Again.
But this time Clara looked genuinely terrified.
“That isn’t my signature.”
Forensic analysis later agreed.
Someone was impersonating Clara.
And whoever it was had access to our corporate systems, family history, and Ariel’s medical information.
Then Gabriel whispered:
“There’s only one person who knew enough to do all three.”
Glen looked at him.
“No.”
Gabriel nodded.
May you like
“Our adoptive sister.”
A woman Glen had never once mentioned.
