Chapter 2 - THE WRONG FATHER
For several seconds, I genuinely forgot how to breathe.
Daniel thinks Maisie is his daughter.
Not is.
Thinks.
Those two words mattered.
I could feel it.
“Nora.”
She closed her eyes.
“Not here.”
“What does that mean?”
“Not in front of Maisie.”
The door opened before I could answer.
Two paramedics entered, followed by Mrs. Alvarez and a police officer responding automatically with the ambulance.
Nora became rigid.
“No police.”
The officer stopped.
“Ma’am?”
“She’s scared,” I said.
Nora glared at me.
I ignored it.
“She has a high fever, possible dehydration.”
The paramedics took over.
Blood pressure.
Temperature.
Oxygen.
Questions.
One of them frowned at the monitor.
“You need a hospital.”
Nora looked at me.
The fear remained.
I crouched beside the bed.
“I’ll keep Daniel away.”
“You can’t promise that.”
“Yes, I can.”
“No,” she whispered. “That’s what scares me.”
I understood the insult.
It still hurt.
The ambulance took Nora to Northwestern Memorial.
Maisie rode with Mrs. Alvarez because Nora refused to let the child see the inside of an ambulance.
I followed in my Bentley.
For the first time in years, my driver had nothing to say.
Marcus had worked for me eight years.
He knew when silence was safer.
At the emergency department, money became useful in ways I hated and needed.
Private room.
Immediate infectious-disease consultation.
Security restrictions.
No visitors without Nora’s consent.
I told the hospital administrator that if Daniel Cole’s name appeared anywhere near the floor, I wanted security alerted.
The administrator looked at me strangely.
“You mean your brother?”
“Yes.”
She did not ask why.
Power taught people when curiosity was expensive.
Nora had pneumonia.
Not catastrophic.
Not simple.
She was malnourished, exhausted, and had delayed care too long because she did not have insurance.
That sentence made something inside me turn violent.
Not toward her.
Toward a country where a five-year-old believed coins could buy her mother back.
Toward myself for being three miles away in an eighty-one-million-dollar conference room.
Toward fourteen years I could not fix.
Maisie sat in the family waiting room drawing stars on a napkin.
I brought her hot chocolate.
She looked at the cup.
“How much?”
“What?”
“How much does it cost?”
“You don’t need to worry about that.”
Her face tightened.
“How much?”
“Three dollars.”
She reached into her coat and pulled out the coffee can.
“No.”
I covered it with my hand.
“This one is from me.”
“That’s still money.”
“It is.”
“So I owe you.”
“No.”
She frowned.
“Mom says free things can cost the most.”
I almost laughed.
“That definitely sounds like your mother.”
She looked suspicious.
“You know her a lot?”
“I used to.”
“Were you the special person?”
My chest tightened.
“What special person?”
“The necklace person.”
I looked at the amber.
“Yes.”
Her eyes widened.
“You made it?”
“I did.”
“With tools?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know it was crooked?”
I stared at her.
Then laughed for the first time all day.
“Yes.”
“Mom says the star is crooked because you were impatient.”
“That sounds unfair.”
“She says you were always impatient.”
“That sounds accurate.”
Maisie sipped her chocolate.
Then she asked, “Did you love her?”
Children have a talent for finding the sentence adults spend hours avoiding.
“Yes.”
“Do you still?”
I looked toward the hospital doors.
“I don’t know.”
She considered that.
“You should know.”
“I probably should.”
“Mom knows things.”
“So I remember.”
She returned to drawing.
I watched her small hand.
The shape of her fingers.
The way she held the pen.
I hated myself for thinking about genetics.
Daniel thinks Maisie is his daughter.
Why would he think that?
Had Nora been with him?
The idea made my stomach turn.
Daniel was thirty-nine now.
Twenty-five when Nora and I were eighteen.
He had always treated her politely.
Distantly.
At least in front of me.
But six years ago—
No.
I stopped.
I did not know.
That was the problem.
I had built an empire around information and had none about the only story that mattered.
My phone rang.
My chief of staff.
I declined.
Again.
Declined.
Then Daniel called.
The world narrowed.
I stared at his name.
Maisie looked up.
“Are you in trouble?”
“Maybe.”
“Mom says if you’re in trouble, don’t answer unknown numbers.”
“I know this one.”
“That can be worse.”
I almost smiled.
Then I answered.
“Daniel.”
His voice came smooth and controlled.
“Where are you?”
The question irritated me immediately.
“At a hospital.”
A pause.
“Which one?”
“Why?”
“Because you canceled the board dinner without explanation.”
“Then eat without me.”
“Ethan.”
My eyes moved to Maisie.
She was coloring the edge of the napkin.
“What?”
“What happened?”
I heard concern.
Maybe real.
Maybe habit.
My brother had helped raise me after our mother died.
He had also spent most of my adult life trying to remind me that he knew what was best.
“An old friend is sick.”
Silence.
Then:
“Who?”
Too fast.
My heartbeat slowed.
“Why does it matter?”
“It doesn’t.”
“It sounded like it did.”
He exhaled.
“You’re being strange.”
“You called because I skipped dinner.”
“I called because you closed an eighty-one-million-dollar acquisition and then disappeared off your schedule.”
I looked at the amber necklace.
“Daniel.”
“Yes?”
“Do you remember Nora Lane?”
Nothing.
Not even breath.
The silence lasted four seconds.
That was enough.
“Why are you asking?”
“You do.”
“I remember you dated a girl in high school.”
“Her name was Nora.”
“So?”
The casual tone was too deliberate.
“Have you seen her since?”
“No.”
A lie.
I knew it instantly.
Daniel had always been a good liar.
But he repeated phrases when he was building one.
“No. Of course not.”
There it was.
Of course.
“Interesting.”
“Ethan, what is this?”
“Nothing.”
“Where are you?”
I ended the call.
My hands were cold.
Maisie looked at me.
“That was worse.”
“Yes.”
She nodded knowingly.
“Told you.”
Mrs. Alvarez returned with a paper bag of clothes for Nora.
She sat beside me.
“You called him?”
“Daniel?”
Her face answered.
“You know him too.”
“I know his name.”
“What did he do?”
She looked at Maisie.
“Not here.”
Again.
Everything important required the child not be present.
I hated that.
A nurse came for Maisie so she could see Nora for five minutes.
The irony nearly broke me.
When they disappeared, Mrs. Alvarez spoke.
“Nora moved into my building eight months ago.”
“From where?”
“Evanston.”
“Why move?”
“She said someone found her.”
“Daniel.”
“She never gave me the name.”
“What did she say?”
“That a man had spent years insisting he had a right to her daughter.”
My jaw tightened.
“Years?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t she go to police?”
“She tried.”
“What happened?”
“Lawyers.”
Of course.
“Restraining order?”
“Temporary once. Then dismissed.”
“Why?”
“Not enough evidence. He never threatened her directly. He sent gifts. Paid bills she didn’t ask him to pay. Had people wait outside school. Sent letters saying he only wanted to be a father.”
My skin crawled.
“That’s not fatherhood.”
“I know.”
“Did Nora?”
Mrs. Alvarez gave me a look.
“She moved three times.”
Fair.
“Why does Daniel think Maisie is his?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did Nora ever say he was?”
“No.”
“Did she say who the father is?”
“No.”
I stood.
I needed motion.
“She told me Daniel thinks.”
Mrs. Alvarez’s eyes narrowed.
“Not that he is.”
“Exactly.”
A nurse appeared.
“Mr. Cole?”
“Yes.”
“Ms. Lane is asking for you.”
Mrs. Alvarez touched my arm before I left.
“Listen before you become angry.”
“I am already angry.”
“That is why I said listen.”
Nora looked better.
Barely.
IV fluids had restored some color.
Maisie sat beside her holding two fingers.
When she saw me, Nora kissed her daughter’s hair.
“Mrs. Alvarez is waiting.”
Maisie sighed.
“Adults keep sending me away.”
“I know.”
“Are you talking about secret things?”
“Yes.”
“Are they boring?”
“No.”
“Then that’s rude.”
Nora almost smiled.
“Go.”
Maisie left.
The door closed.
I stayed standing.
“Daniel called me.”
Fear moved across Nora’s face.
“What did you say?”
“Your name.”
“Jesus, Ethan.”
“He already knew.”
“That’s not the point.”
“He lied.”
“Of course he lied.”
“What happened six years ago?”
Nora looked toward the window.
“Sit down.”
“I’d rather stand.”
“That has not improved with age.”
“Nora.”
She closed her eyes.
“When I was twenty-six, I came back to Chicago.”
“I know that much now.”
“You knew?”
“I had someone pull public records while you were being admitted.”
Her eyes opened.
“Of course you did.”
“I’m trying to understand.”
“Then stop investigating me like a company.”
The words hit.
I sat.
“Okay.”
She studied me.
Then took a breath.
“I came back because my mother had cancer.”
“I didn’t know.”
“She died seven months later.”
“I’m sorry.”
Nora nodded.
“Afterward I stayed. I taught art at a charter school.”
“What does Daniel have to do with it?”
“He showed up at the funeral.”
My chest tightened.
“How did he know?”
“He said he saw the obituary.”
“Did you believe him?”
“No.”
“Good.”
She gave me a tired look.
“He offered help. I said no. Then he started appearing.”
“Appearing where?”
“Coffee shop. School fundraiser. Grocery store.”
“Stalking.”
“At first I thought he was lonely.”
“Daniel is not lonely.”
“Everybody can be lonely.”
She looked at me pointedly.
I let that go.
“Then?”
“He told me you were engaged.”
I froze.
“I was never engaged.”
“I know that now.”
“He told you—”
“That you were marrying an investor’s daughter in California.”
My hands curled.
“I dated someone for four months at twenty-five.”
“I found that out later.”
“Daniel knew that.”
“Yes.”
“Why would he—”
“Because he wanted me to stop asking about you.”
I stared.
“You asked?”
Nora laughed softly.
“Of course I asked.”
Fourteen years of rage shifted.
Not gone.
Rearranged.
“What happened next?”
“Daniel kept helping without permission. A repair bill got paid. My mother’s old medical debt disappeared. Then he asked me to dinner.”
My stomach turned.
“Did you go?”
“Yes.”
I stood.
She watched me.
“Sit down.”
I sat.
“Why?”
“Because I wanted to know why he was doing it.”
“And?”
“He said he had always cared about me.”
I felt physically sick.
“He was twenty-five when we were eighteen.”
“I know.”
“He knew we were together.”
“I know.”
“What did you say?”
“No.”
Relief hit embarrassingly hard.
Nora saw.
“You have no right to look relieved.”
“You’re right.”
“But you are.”
“Yes.”
She looked away.
“Three months later, I was dating someone else.”
There it was.
Maisie’s father.
“Who?”
“A man named Owen Hart.”
I did not recognize it.
“He was a photographer. Kind. Funny. Bad with money. Good with Maisie before she existed.”
“You loved him?”
“Yes.”
That hurt.
Fourteen years did not give me the right to be hurt.
I was anyway.
“What happened?”
“He died.”
My anger vanished.
“When?”
“Before Maisie was born.”
“How?”
“Car accident.”
I went still.
Nora saw.
“So did I.”
“What?”
“I thought exactly what you’re thinking.”
“Daniel?”
“He started showing up again two weeks after the funeral.”
My skin went cold.
“He told people he was helping me because Owen had no family.”
“That still doesn’t explain why he thinks Maisie is his.”
Nora looked at me.
“The night after my mother’s memorial, before Owen and I were together, I made one mistake.”
Every muscle in my body tightened.
“With Daniel?”
She nodded once.
I looked away.
“I was drunk. Grieving. He had spent months telling me you had forgotten me.”
Her voice broke.
“I hated myself the next morning.”
“Nora.”
“No. You asked.”
“I’m not judging you.”
“You’re trying not to.”
“That’s different.”
“Yes.”
She wiped her face.
“Maisie was conceived almost a year later.”
I turned back.
“Then Daniel cannot be her father.”
“He knows the dates.”
“Then why does he claim—”
“Because he says dates can be wrong.”
“That is insane.”
“Rich men can fund insanity for a very long time.”
I understood that sentence too well.
“Did he demand DNA?”
“Yes.”
“Did you agree?”
“No.”
“Why not end it?”
Nora’s eyes hardened.
“Because Owen knew I was pregnant before he died. He wanted Maisie. He left letters. He left a will. He was her father in every way that mattered before she took a breath.”
“But biologically—”
“Ethan.”
She stopped me.
There was something else.
“You’re still not telling me.”
“No.”
“What?”
Her face changed.
“I found out two years ago that Owen could not have been her biological father.”
The room went silent.
My heartbeat began pounding.
“How?”
“Medical testing. He had been treated for childhood cancer. The records showed complete infertility.”
I stared.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Then Daniel—”
“Still isn’t the only possibility.”
My chest tightened.
Nora’s eyes filled.
“There was someone else.”
I could barely speak.
“Who?”
She looked directly at me.
“You.”
The room disappeared.
“That’s impossible.”
“Is it?”
“We hadn’t seen each other in fourteen years.”
Nora closed her eyes.
“Ethan, you saw me six years ago.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“San Francisco.”
My heart stopped.
A conference.
A hotel bar.
A woman with shorter hair.
One night I had never connected to Nora because I had been drinking, because the lights were low, because she had given me another name when I asked, because I had spent the next morning convinced I had dreamed the familiarity in her voice.
No.
“Nora.”
She nodded.
“You were at the hotel for the Meridian launch.”
“You told me your name was Claire.”
“I panicked.”
I stood.
The room tilted.
“That was you?”
“Yes.”
“And Maisie—”
“I don’t know.”
She started crying.
“I swear to you, Ethan. I don’t know if Maisie is yours or Daniel’s.”
My entire body went cold.
May you like
Then the door opened.
Daniel walked in.
