Chapter 8 - The Birth Certificate With Two Fathers
At 11:42 the next morning, the Fairchild house felt like a courtroom waiting for the judge.
Arthur had canceled every meeting.
Marcus had not slept.
Neither had I.
Vivian spent the night in the guest suite after Arthur locked the master bedroom.
It was the first time in forty-three years of marriage they had slept under the same roof but deliberately apart.
Beatrice had left with her attorney after questioning.
Gerald was still being interviewed.
No arrests had been announced.
Reporters had already gathered outside the gates.
Someone leaked that “financial irregularities” were being reviewed at the Fairchild Foundation.
Nobody publicly knew about Celia yet.
But that would not last.
At 11:55, a gray sedan passed through the gates.
Evelyn Pike drove.
Celia sat beside her.
Arthur stood in the foyer.
His hands trembled.
I had never seen a seventy-one-year-old man look like a frightened child.
The door opened.
Celia entered.
She was forty-one.
Dark hair cut to her shoulders.
Simple navy blouse.
No visible jewelry except a wedding band.
Her face was not Vivian’s.
Not exactly Arthur’s.
But her eyes were his.
That was undeniable.
Arthur whispered, “Hello.”
Celia studied him.
“Hello.”
Neither moved.
Marcus stood several steps behind his father.
Celia looked at him.
“My brother.”
He swallowed.
“Apparently.”
A tiny smile crossed her face.
It disappeared quickly.
Vivian entered the foyer.
Celia’s entire body changed.
Shoulders stiff.
Jaw tight.
“Hello, Vivian.”
Not Mom.
Vivian whispered, “Celia.”
Arthur turned.
“The birth certificate.”
Vivian held a sealed envelope.
She handed it to him.
Arthur opened it.
The document was from California.
Celia Deborah Ford.
Mother listed as Deborah Anne Ford.
Father:
Gerald Thomas Pike.
Arthur looked up slowly.
“You told me she was mine.”
“She is.”
“Then why is Gerald listed as the father?”
Celia answered.
“Because he agreed to be.”
Everyone looked at her.
She continued.
“Deborah was his cousin. The clinic arrangement was private and legally questionable even for the time. When I was born, they needed a father for the certificate.”
Arthur stared at Gerald’s name.
“So Gerald pretended to be her father.”
“No,” Celia said. “He was legally my father.”
Vivian whispered, “Only on paper.”
Celia’s eyes flashed.
“He paid for school. He attended my graduation. He helped when Deborah was sick. He did more than sign paper.”
Vivian looked wounded.
“You were provided for.”
Celia laughed once.
“There it is.”
Arthur asked softly, “Did you know about me growing up?”
“No.”
“When did you learn?”
“Twelve years ago.”
“How?”
“Deborah died.”
Celia’s voice softened.
“She left me a box.”
Inside were letters, clinic receipts and photographs.
One photograph showed Arthur at twenty-eight.
Another showed Vivian pregnant with Caroline.
There was also correspondence confirming the embryo used to conceive Celia came from Arthur and Vivian.
Arthur whispered, “You tried to contact me.”
“Three times.”
His eyes filled.
“I never knew.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“Because the first letter was returned.”
She looked at Vivian.
“Unopened.”
Arthur’s face hardened.
“The second?”
“Gerald came to my house.”
Celia paused.
“He offered me money.”
Arthur looked sick.
“And the third?”
“I came here.”
Marcus frowned.
“When?”
“Eleven years ago.”
Vivian closed her eyes.
Marcus stared at her.
“You came to this house?”
Celia nodded.
“Vivian met me at the gate.”
“What did she say?”
Celia looked directly at Vivian.
“Tell him.”
Vivian said nothing.
“Tell your son what you said.”
Vivian’s voice was barely audible.
“I told her Arthur was ill.”
Celia laughed bitterly.
“You told me he had suffered a heart attack and any shock could kill him.”
Arthur stared.
“I had never had a heart attack.”
“I know.”
Celia continued.
“She told me Marcus was fragile after Caroline’s death.”
Marcus whispered, “I was six.”
“She said learning I existed would destroy the family.”
Vivian said, “I was trying to—”
“Protect everyone.”
Celia finished it for her.
“You always call control protection.”
The sentence landed hard.
Marcus looked at me.
I knew he heard himself in it too.
Arthur asked, “Did you take the money?”
“At first.”
Celia did not hide it.
“I was angry. Deborah left medical bills. I had student debt. Vivian offered compensation.”
“Compensation?”
“For staying away.”
Arthur’s jaw tightened.
“How much?”
“Fifty thousand initially.”
Vivian whispered, “Then more.”
“Yes.”
Celia looked at Arthur.
“I’m not proud of it.”
“You were young.”
“I was twenty-nine. Old enough to know money was not a relationship.”
“When did you stop?”
“Six years ago.”
My heart jumped.
That matched Marcus’s account.
“But the ledger shows continued transfers,” I said.
Celia nodded.
“Exactly.”
Arthur looked at Vivian.
“Where did they go?”
Vivian shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
Everyone stared.
Celia laughed.
“You expect anyone to believe that?”
“I authorized transfers through Gerald.”
“To whom?”
“An intermediary.”
“Who?”
Vivian’s lips tightened.
Beatrice.
I realized it.
“So after Celia refused your money, Beatrice continued receiving it.”
Vivian looked away.
Arthur understood.
“She told you she was still paying Celia.”
Vivian nodded slowly.
“Beatrice said Celia had changed her mind but didn’t want direct contact.”
Celia’s face twisted.
“She stole money using my name.”
Arthur asked, “How much?”
I opened the ledger.
“Approximately 1.3 million after Celia says she stopped accepting payments.”
Celia sat down.
Even she looked stunned.
Vivian whispered, “I didn’t know.”
For once, I believed her.
She had committed enough real wrongdoing.
There was no need to invent more.
Arthur rubbed his forehead.
“So Beatrice blackmailed you while simultaneously stealing the money you thought was going to Celia.”
Evelyn spoke for the first time.
“Yes.”
Everyone turned.
She placed a folder on the table.
“And my father discovered it two years ago.”
Arthur stared.
“What?”
Evelyn opened the folder.
“Gerald confronted Beatrice privately. She threatened to expose Vivian, Celia, the foundation transfers and fabricated evidence implicating Arthur.”
“So Gerald stayed silent.”
“Yes.”
Marcus asked, “Why didn’t he tell Mom?”
“He did.”
Vivian looked confused.
“No.”
Evelyn’s face hardened.
“Yes, he did.”
She removed a printed email.
“August seventeenth. Two years ago.”
Vivian read it.
Her expression changed.
“I never received this.”
“It was sent to your account.”
“I didn’t see it.”
Evelyn looked at Marcus.
“Because someone deleted it before she could.”
Marcus stared.
“Who had access?”
Vivian answered slowly.
“Gerald.”
Evelyn shook her head.
“My father was in surgery that day.”
Arthur frowned.
“Then who?”
Vivian looked toward Marcus.
“My executive credentials also synced to the home office computer.”
Marcus said, “I didn’t delete it.”
“No,” Vivian whispered.
Then she looked at me.
Not accusingly.
Realization.
“The system administrator.”
I remembered the household technology vendor.
A quiet man who had maintained Fairchild systems for years.
“Who?”
Vivian said the name.
“Thomas Vale.”
Arthur frowned.
“Why would Thomas delete financial emails?”
Evelyn took out another photograph.
Thomas Vale entering Beatrice Langley’s apartment building.
Three separate dates.
“He was working for her.”
Suddenly Beatrice’s reach became much larger.
Emails.
Security systems.
Household records.
Perhaps my login credentials.
My phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
Not Evelyn.
YOU SHOULD HAVE LEFT THE TEAPOT BROKEN.
A second message.
NOW YOU’VE MADE THIS PERSONAL.
Marcus read it over my shoulder.
His face hardened.
“Who is that?”
I did not know.
But Evelyn did.
She looked at the number.
Then whispered:
“Thomas.”
Arthur asked, “How do you know?”
May you like
Evelyn stared at me.
“Because that’s the same number he used when he threatened me the night I disappeared.”
