Chapter 13 - Jessica’s Choice
I didn’t believe Mark at first.
Jessica had warned me.
She gave me the laptop.
She told me about Margaret’s fear of DNA testing.
She helped us.
Then detectives showed me messages.
Jessica had known Mark was documenting my grief.
She knew he recorded Daniel.
She had even suggested hiring the private investigator.
Her explanation was simple.
“I thought Claire was cheating.”
That word again.
Cheating.
The lie Margaret had planted had infected everyone.
Jessica cried when she met me.
“I believed her.”
“You saw how she treated Lily.”
“I thought she was angry at you.”
“She punished a child.”
“I know.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“You know now.”
Jessica looked down.
“I’m sorry.”
I had become exhausted by apologies.
Sorry was what adults said after children paid for their cowardice.
Jessica admitted she helped gather information.
But she claimed she did not know Mark planned to forge evidence or switch samples.
Police believed some of that.
Not all.
Her involvement complicated Mark’s case.
It also destroyed their marriage.
Jessica filed for divorce.
Then she did something I did not expect.
She gave prosecutors access to every account she shared with Mark.
That revealed payments from Jonathan Reed.
Hundreds of thousands of dollars.
Jonathan’s attorneys insisted they were legitimate consulting fees.
Records suggested otherwise.
Many payments lined up with important dates.
Daniel’s wedding.
Lily’s birth.
Samuel’s hospitalization.
Samuel’s death.
Each time Daniel’s life moved closer to raising questions about the Reed family, money moved toward Margaret or Mark.
The pattern was hard to ignore.
Jonathan agreed to a deposition.
He admitted paying Margaret.
He denied knowing about the forged DNA sample.
He denied participating in the custody scheme.
Then our attorney asked him whether he knew Lily existed.
Jonathan hesitated.
“Yes.”
“When did you learn?”
“Before she was born.”
Daniel looked at him sharply.
“How?”
Jonathan adjusted his cuff.
“Margaret told me Claire was pregnant.”
“And?”
“She said the child probably wasn’t yours.”
The room went silent.
Margaret started accusing me before Lily was even born.
Before anyone could compare features.
Before there could be doubts.
It had never been about Lily’s appearance.
It was a strategy from the beginning.
Our attorney asked why Jonathan cared.
Jonathan answered.
“Because a descendant would strengthen Daniel’s standing under certain trust provisions.”
There it was.
Lily’s existence threatened the secret before she ever took her first breath.
I felt sick.
Daniel reached beneath the table and squeezed my hand.
Jonathan noticed.
His expression changed.
“You think I’m a monster.”
I stared at him.
“You funded one.”
He looked away.
Six weeks after the porch incident, the probate judge issued an interim ruling.
Daniel had established sufficient genetic evidence to be recognized as Samuel Reed’s biological son for purposes of continuing the estate claim.
The deadline was satisfied.
Margaret’s entire plan had failed.
But that night, someone threw a brick through our living room window.
Lily screamed upstairs.
Daniel ran outside.
The street was empty.
Wrapped around the brick was a photocopy of Samuel Reed’s trust.
One sentence had been highlighted.
Upon the death of a recognized beneficiary, said interest shall pass according to bloodline succession.
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Below it, someone had written:
LILY IS NEXT.
