Chapter 7 - The Child He Never Knew He HadI didn't sleep.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the photograph of Nathan beside the blonde woman. I saw the diamond ring on her finger. I saw the message written on the back.
She died because she carried his child.
By dawn, I had convinced myself of a dozen different horrors.
Perhaps Nathan had known about another child.
Perhaps Lily wasn't his first daughter.
Perhaps the reason he looked so frightened when she called him Dada wasn't recognition of her face.
Perhaps it was recognition of his own past.
At six in the morning, I found him in the kitchen.
He stood beside the coffee machine wearing a black shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. His injured hand rested on the counter, and an untouched cup of coffee sat in front of him.
He looked up when I entered.
“You're awake early.”
“I didn't sleep.”
His gaze moved toward the envelope in my hand.
“What's that?”
I set the photograph on the counter.
He looked at it.
The color drained from his face.
For several seconds, he didn't speak.
Then he turned the photograph over.
“Who gave you this?”
“Someone slipped it beneath my door.”
He closed his eyes.
“Victoria.”
“She said you had a daughter before Lily.”
Nathan opened his eyes.
“It's a lie.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I have never fathered another child.”
I pointed at the woman in the photograph.
“Who is she?”
“Evelyn Shaw.”
“Your fiancée?”
“Yes.”
“What happened to her?”
Nathan stared at the image.
For a moment, he seemed to be looking at a ghost.
“Evelyn and I were engaged for six months. We were never married. She knew about my business, my enemies, and the risks involved in being close to me. I believed she understood what she was agreeing to.”
“And?”
“She decided she didn't want that life.”
I waited.
Nathan picked up the photograph.
“Three years ago, Evelyn disappeared after a charity event. Her car was found burned outside the city. The police identified her by dental records.”
“Was she pregnant?”
“No.”
His answer was immediate.
“How can you be certain?”
“Because I saw her medical records before she died. She wasn't pregnant.”
“Then why would someone say she had your child?”
“Because someone wants you to believe that every woman who gets close to me ends up dead.”
He looked at Lily's empty playpen in the adjoining room.
“It's an effective way to frighten a mother.”
I hated how easily he understood the tactic.
I hated even more that it had worked.
“Who killed Evelyn?”
Nathan's mouth tightened.
“We don't know.”
I stared at him.
“How can you not know?”
“Because the people responsible destroyed the evidence, bribed witnesses, and made certain the investigation went nowhere. I spent a year trying to find the person who ordered it.”
“Did you find them?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know it wasn't you?”
His eyes lifted to mine.
The question had hurt him.
I could see it.
But I needed to ask.
Because I could not raise my daughter beside a man whose secrets I was too frightened to examine.
Nathan set the photograph down.
“Because I loved her.”
The words were so quiet I almost didn't hear them.
He looked away.
“And because when I found out she was dead, I stood in the hospital corridor for three hours unable to move.”
I remembered my own fear in the hospital after Lily's birth.
I remembered the cold lights and the sound of footsteps passing my room.
Something inside me softened.
Not enough to erase my doubts.
Enough to see the man beneath the reputation.
“I don't know what to believe,” I admitted.
“Then don't believe me.”
I frowned.
“What?”
“Don't believe anything I tell you until you've seen the evidence yourself. That's what I would do in your position.”
He pushed the photograph toward me.
“I'll give you access to everything we have on Evelyn. Every report, every photograph, every witness statement. You can decide what happened.”
I looked at him in surprise.
“You'd let me see your private files?”
“I'm asking you to trust me with my daughter. The least I can do is let you decide whether I'm worthy of that trust.”
For a moment, I couldn't speak.
Then Lily began crying from the next room.
Nathan moved before I did.
He hurried to the playpen and lifted her into his arms.
“What's wrong, little one?”
Lily quieted almost immediately.
He looked at me.
“Is she hungry?”
“Probably.”
He glanced toward the kitchen.
“How do I know how much formula to give her?”
I blinked.
“You don't know?”
“I have never prepared a bottle.”
Despite everything, I laughed.
Nathan Blackwood, a man who could negotiate the sale of an entire building without blinking, looked genuinely concerned about a bottle of formula.
I showed him.
He listened with complete seriousness as I explained the measurements, the temperature, and the importance of checking the milk before giving it to Lily.
When he handed her the bottle, she grabbed it with both hands.
Nathan watched her drink.
Something in his face changed.
He looked fascinated.
Almost afraid to blink.
“She's very small,” he whispered.
“She won't be small forever.”
He nodded.
Then, unexpectedly, he said, “I missed everything.”
I looked at him.
“The first time she rolled over. The first time she laughed. The first time she slept through the night. I missed the first time she said a word.”
His voice broke on the last sentence.
I had spent months resenting Nathan for everything he represented.
His wealth.
His power.
His ability to solve problems with a phone call.
But I had never imagined what it might feel like to learn that your child had been growing somewhere in the world while you knew nothing about her.
“You can be there for the things that happen next,” I said.
Nathan looked at me.
“Will you let me?”
I didn't answer immediately.
Then I nodded.
“One step at a time.”
He accepted that.
It was more than I had expected.
At nine in the morning, the laboratory called.
The doctor asked to speak to Nathan and me together.
We entered the study and closed the door.
Calder stood near the window while Nathan put the call on speaker.
“Dr. Hayes,” Nathan said. “You have the results?”
“Yes. We've completed the analysis and verified the chain of custody.”
My stomach twisted.
“Please tell us,” I whispered.
The doctor paused.
“The probability of Mr. Blackwood being the biological father of Lily Miller is greater than 99.99 percent.”
The room went silent.
Nathan didn't move.
I felt tears spill down my cheeks.
It was one thing to know the truth in my heart.
It was another to hear it confirmed by someone who had nothing to gain from the answer.
Lily was his.
Nathan's daughter.
The doctor continued, “There is one issue we need to discuss. The original hospital report you supplied appears to contain altered genetic information. Some of the values do not match the actual laboratory data.”
Nathan's face hardened.
“Altered by whom?”
“We can't identify the person responsible from the document alone. But the results we obtained are consistent across repeated tests.”
“Send the report directly to us,” Nathan ordered.
“We already have.”
The call ended.
Nathan remained still for several seconds.
Then he looked at me.
“She's mine.”
I nodded.
“Yes.”
He lowered his head.
For one terrifying moment, I thought he might cry.
Instead, he reached for Lily, who was sitting on the sofa beside me.
He lifted her gently.
“I'm your father,” he whispered.
Lily stared at him.
Then she patted his cheek with her tiny hand.
“Dada.”
Nathan closed his eyes.
And I saw him surrender to the one thing he had spent his entire life refusing to show.
Love.
Pure, unguarded, terrifying love.
He kissed Lily's forehead.
“I swear you'll never be alone again.”
A knock interrupted us.
Calder entered carrying a second report.
His expression was grim.
“Mr. Blackwood, the clinic has confirmed the first result wasn't the only test conducted.”
Nathan turned.
“What do you mean?”
Calder placed the report on the desk.
“Someone submitted a separate sample under Lily's name six months ago. According to that result, you are not her biological father.”
I stared at him.
“That makes no sense.”
“No,” Calder replied. “It doesn't.”
Nathan picked up the paper.
His eyes narrowed.
The sample had been collected at a different hospital.
The report carried the signature of a physician who had died two years earlier.
And attached to the bottom was a photograph of a man standing outside the clinic.
A man Nathan recognized immediately.
His own father.
Thomas Blackwood.
The report had been designed to prove Lily wasn't Nathan's daughter.
But the photograph revealed something far more disturbing.
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Thomas had known about Lily before she was born.
And he had spent eight months trying to erase her from the Blackwood family.
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