Chapter 6 - What My Father Hid
The letter was from my mother.
Written two days before she died.
Megan,
If something happens to me, do not blame Gabriel.
That was the first line.
My hands shook.
The second:
Do not trust Howard Bell.
The third:
Your father knows only part of this.
I looked at Dad.
He closed his eyes.
Mom had discovered Dr. Bell was running an illegal genetic-selection program through the foundation.
Not science-fiction super-babies.
Something more believable.
Wealthy families paid to manipulate donor records, conceal biological parentage, and reroute embryos.
Inheritance disputes.
Affairs.
Surrogacy.
Private adoptions.
Bell’s business was secrecy.
Medical paperwork made lies look official.
My mother had found payment records.
One client name appeared repeatedly.
Voss Family Trust.
Glen recognized it.
His adoptive family.
The couple who raised Glen and Gabriel had paid Bell.
Why?
Glen didn’t know.
Then Clara answered.
“To separate the twins legally.”
I stared.
The adoptive family originally agreed to take one child.
Glen.
Gabriel was supposed to go elsewhere.
But the adoptive mother changed her mind and took both.
Bell falsified records to make the second placement appear legitimate.
“That’s why Gabriel was undocumented in some systems,” Clara said.
Meaning after his disappearance, declaring him dead had been easier.
Then I asked:
“What does this have to do with me?”
My father finally spoke.
“Your mother thought Bell had altered your birth records too.”
I stared.
“My birth records?”
Not adoption.
Not surrogacy.
Something involving my biological father.
Dad’s face told me he had feared this question for decades.
“Am I yours?”
He looked hurt.
“Yes.”
“Biologically?”
Silence.
Clara started crying.
My stomach dropped.
Dad whispered:
“I don’t know.”
The room tilted.
My mother had apparently undergone emergency fertility treatment before I was born.
Dad knew.
He believed his sperm was used.
But Bell’s records were inconsistent.
Mother became suspicious years later when investigating the foundation.
She ordered DNA testing.
The results were in the metal box.
I almost couldn’t open them.
Then I did.
Probability of paternity:
Richard Hale excluded.
My father was not my biological father.
He stared at the page.
“I never cared.”
I believed him.
That made the lie more painful, not less.
Then another page identified a likely paternal relationship.
Name redacted.
But a handwritten note appeared beside it.
Do not tell Megan until I confirm whether he is alive.
I looked at Clara.
“Who?”
She shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
Then Glen noticed something.
The laboratory code matched one from the fertility clinic where Ariel had been conceived.
Same donor series.
Thirty-two years apart.
Bell had reused an old donor line.
My biological father and whoever contributed to Ariel’s embryo might come from the same family.
And suddenly the possibility became horrifying.
We needed more than a paternity test.
May you like
We needed full genetic relationship analysis.
Immediately.
