Chapter 5 - The Man Called D
Detective Martinez traced the number.
It belonged to David Mercer, an attorney who had handled Linda's estate planning for fifteen years.
David initially denied knowing anything about reproductive records.
Then police showed him the messages.
His story changed.
Linda had asked him to retrieve old documents.
She claimed Ethan wanted information about his biological history.
David helped prepare paperwork.
But when investigators examined the signatures, several appeared forged.
Including mine.
David insisted he hadn't forged them.
Linda blamed David.
David blamed Linda.
And Ethan began realizing his mother's secrets stretched much further than one violent birthday party.
Meanwhile, my pregnancy became the center of a medical mystery.
Dr. Patel carefully explained that the developmental difference between the twins could have several explanations and that no extraordinary conclusion should be made from ultrasound measurements alone.
More testing was necessary.
That distinction mattered.
Because while everyone around us wanted a dramatic answer, I wanted only healthy babies.
Three days later, I was discharged.
Ethan took me home.
For the first time in our marriage, he blocked his mother's number.
Then he changed the locks.
But when we entered our bedroom, something was wrong.
My jewelry box had been moved.
The closet door stood open.
And inside the bathroom cabinet, an envelope waited.
My name was written across it.
CLAIRE.
Inside was a photograph.
Linda.
David.
And another woman.
The photograph had been taken outside my obstetrician's office.
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On the back someone had written:
ASK ETHAN WHERE HE WAS ON MARCH 12.
