Chapter 9: The House With No Grave
The iron gates opened before we reached them.
Nobody touched them.
Nobody spoke.
They simply groaned apart, revealing the long gravel drive leading toward Daniel Hayes's abandoned estate.
Mark stared through the windshield.
“That gate has been locked for six years.””
Marissa slowed the car.
“How is it opening?””
“I don't know.””
The black SUVs behind us turned onto the drive.
Chloe twisted around.
“They're coming.””
Mark looked at Marissa.
“Don't stop.””
The tires spat gravel as we accelerated toward the house.
Rainwater streamed down the windshield. The old estate appeared through the trees, exactly as I remembered it from the one time I'd visited before Daniel died.
Three stories.
Gray stone.
Black shutters.
A circular window above the front door.
And a tall chimney on the east side that always seemed slightly crooked.
It should have been dark.
Instead, every light on the first floor was on.
Mark's face went pale.
“Someone's here.””
Marissa pulled beside the front steps.
Mark jumped out.
“Stay in the car.””
I opened my door.
“I am not staying behind.””
“You're eight months pregnant.””
“And someone is following us.””
That ended the argument.
He came around the car and helped me out.
Chloe followed.
Marissa grabbed her folder and shut the car door.
The first SUV stopped at the bottom of the drive.
The second blocked the gate.
“Move,” Mark said.
We ran for the front door.
It opened before Mark touched the handle.
I stopped.
A figure stood inside the dark hallway.
For one impossible second, I thought it was Daniel.
Same height.
Same shoulders.
Same gray hair.
Then the man stepped into the light.
It wasn't him.
He was younger.
Perhaps fifty.
He wore a navy coat and held a cane in one hand.
Mark raised his voice.
“Who are you?””
The man looked directly at him.
“Your father's attorney.””
Mark froze.
“What?””
“My name is Thomas Hale.””
He moved aside.
“You're late.””
Marissa stared at him.
“You knew we were coming.””
Thomas nodded.
“Daniel expected you eventually.””
My skin prickled.
“Daniel is dead.””
Thomas looked at me.
“That's what you were told.””
Mark stepped forward.
“Stop speaking in riddles.””
Thomas sighed.
“Come inside.””
“No.””
Mark pointed down the driveway.
“People are following us.””
“I know.””
“Then call the police.””
“I already did.””
Mark stared at him.
“You called them?””
“An hour ago.””
Thomas glanced toward the gate.
“They'll arrive shortly.””
Mark didn't move.
“How did you know we would come here?””
Thomas looked at me.
“Because your father knew what your mother would do.””
He looked down at my stomach.
“And he knew she would eventually need that child.””
My heart pounded.
“What child?””
Thomas's face tightened.
“The one she has spent six months trying to claim.””
Mark's jaw clenched.
“My son.””
Thomas nodded.
“Yes.””
A gunshot cracked from somewhere outside.
I screamed.
Thomas immediately pulled me into the foyer.
Mark shoved Chloe behind the wall.
Another shot shattered a window.
“Down!”” Mark shouted.
Marissa dropped behind a sofa.
Thomas remained strangely calm.
“Back hallway.””
Mark grabbed my hand.
We ran.
A third shot sounded.
Glass rained onto the floor.
Thomas opened a concealed door beneath the staircase.
“Inside.””
We rushed through.
The door shut behind us.
Darkness swallowed the room.
Then Thomas switched on a small lamp.
I stared.
This wasn't a storage closet.
It was a hidden office.
Shelves lined the walls.
Boxes covered the floor.
Old computers sat beneath dust.
And photographs covered one entire wall.
Daniel.
Marissa.
Ethan.
Mark as a child.
Chloe as a teenager.
And me.
My photograph was tucked among them.
Taken years before I had met Mark.
I stepped closer.
“How does he have this?””
Thomas said nothing.
Mark stared at the wall.
“My father was watching Lauren before we even met?””
“No.””
Thomas pointed to one photograph.
“Your mother was.””
I looked.
It was a photo of me leaving the hospital after my physical three years earlier.
Another showed me outside my apartment.
Another showed me with my mother.
My blood ran cold.
“She had me followed.””
“Yes.””
“Why?””
Thomas looked at me.
“Because Daniel discovered something about your family.””
“What?””
He opened a drawer.
Inside was a DNA test.
The names were printed across the top.
*Lauren Hayes.*
*Evelyn Hayes.*
*Daniel Hayes.*
Mark stared at the report.
“What is this?””
“A paternity analysis.””
He read the result.
Then looked at me.
“Lauren is not Evelyn's biological daughter.””
I stopped breathing.
“What?””
Thomas nodded.
“Your mother is not your biological mother.””
I laughed once.
It sounded ridiculous.
“She raised me.””
“Yes.””
“She gave birth to me.””
“No.””
I stared at him.
“No.””
Thomas slid another document toward me.
“Your birth records were changed.””
My hands shook.
“By whom?””
“Evelyn.””
Mark looked at him.
“Why would my mother fake Lauren's birth records?””
Thomas's face was grim.
“Because Lauren was born twenty-nine years ago in the same fertility clinic where your mother later arranged Chloe's treatments.””
My mind could not process the words.
“I was born there?””
“Yes.””
“Why?””
Thomas opened another file.
This one contained an old hospital photograph.
A newborn baby.
A woman lying unconscious in a hospital bed.
And beside her—
Daniel.
I looked closer.
The woman on the bed wasn't Evelyn.
It was my mother.
My actual mother.
The woman I'd spent my entire life calling Mom.
I stared at the photograph.
“Who is the baby?””
Thomas looked at me.
“You.””
Mark stepped closer.
“Then where was Evelyn?””
“She was in the room next door.””
“Why?””
Thomas lowered his voice.
“Because Daniel's wife had just suffered a miscarriage.””
Evelyn had lost a baby.
I suddenly remembered something.
When I was little, Evelyn had once told me she could never have children.
She had cried while saying it.
I had thought she meant Mark had been her only child.
Thomas continued.
“She saw Lauren.””
I felt sick.
“She took me?””
“Not immediately.””
Thomas reached for another file.
“She begged Daniel to let her raise the baby.””
“Why?””
“Because she believed you were the only thing she had left.””
Mark shook his head.
“That doesn't explain the altered records.””
“No.””
Thomas looked at him.
“It was David Mercer.””
The name hit the room like another gunshot.
“What did he do?”” Mark asked.
“He discovered Lauren's existence.””
I frowned.
“Why would he care about me?””
“Because your biological father was not who everyone thought.””
Thomas opened the final folder.
Inside was a DNA comparison.
I read the names.
*Lauren Hayes.*
*Daniel Hayes.*
The result.
*Biological father: Daniel Edward Hayes.*
I staggered backward.
“No.””
Mark stared at me.
Thomas nodded.
“Daniel was your biological father.””
My world tilted.
Daniel.
My father-in-law.
My husband's father.
My biological father.
The man I had married into the family to call Dad was actually my father.
I couldn't breathe.
Mark looked horrified.
“That means Lauren and I…”
Thomas interrupted.
“No.””
I looked up.
“Why not?””
“Because Mark is not Daniel's biological son.””
Silence.
Mark's face became blank.
“What?””
Thomas handed him another report.
Mark read it.
Once.
Twice.
Then dropped it.
I picked it up.
The test compared Mark Hayes with Daniel Hayes.
*Probability of paternity: 0.00%.*
Mark whispered, “No.””
Thomas spoke carefully.
“Daniel raised you. He was your father in every way except biology.””
Mark shook his head.
“Then who is?””
Thomas looked toward the closed door.
“Your mother never told you.””
He opened another envelope.
Inside was an old photograph.
A younger Evelyn stood beside a man I didn't recognize.
Mark stared.
“I've seen him.””
I looked at the photograph.
The man wore a military uniform.
Thomas said, “His name was Michael Hayes.””
Mark frowned.
“Hayes?””
“Daniel's younger brother.””
Mark went silent.
“He disappeared before you were born.””
Thomas nodded.
“He didn't disappear.””
A distant siren wailed beyond the walls.
Thomas continued.
“He was murdered.””
Mark's face drained of color.
“By who?””
Thomas looked at the photograph.
“David Mercer.””
Chloe covered her mouth.
“Why?””
“Because Michael discovered what your mother and Daniel had been doing.””
“What were they doing?”” Mark asked.
Thomas opened the last folder.
Inside were embryo storage records.
Birth certificates.
Hospital wristbands.
DNA tests.
And one document stamped with a court seal.
Thomas placed it on the desk.
“This is why your mother tried to rewrite the pregnancy.””
Mark read it.
I read it over his shoulder.
The document contained a legal determination about the inheritance of the Hayes estate.
The rightful biological heirs were listed.
*Lauren Hayes — first child of Daniel Edward Hayes.*
*Mark Hayes — legal son of Daniel Edward Hayes.*
*Ethan Mercer — biological son of David Mercer.*
Then one final line.
*In the event of Daniel Hayes's death, Lauren Hayes is the primary beneficiary.*
My chest tightened.
The trust.
The millions.
The hidden child.
The forged documents.
The pregnancy.
Everything suddenly connected.
Evelyn hadn't been trying to give Chloe a baby.
She'd been trying to erase me.
Because if I remained Daniel's biological daughter, the estate belonged to me.
Mark stared at the page.
“So all of this…”
Thomas nodded.
“Was about the inheritance.””
I whispered, “What about my baby?””
Thomas looked at me.
“The child gives Evelyn one more problem.””
“What?””
“If you die during childbirth—or if your pregnancy is declared a surrogacy—the estate transfers.””
My blood went cold.
“To whom?””
“Chloe.””
I stared at him.
“Why?””
“Because your mother changed Daniel's private trust six years ago.””
Mark's voice shook.
“She changed the beneficiary after Dad died.””
Thomas nodded.
“Exactly.””
A knock sounded on the hidden door.
Three slow knocks.
Thomas looked terrified for the first time.
“Who's there?””
A man's voice answered.
“Thomas.””
Mark stepped backward.
“What?””
Thomas whispered,
“That voice shouldn't be possible.””
“Open the door,” the man said.
Thomas looked at me.
Then at Mark.
And finally at Chloe.
“Your father wasn't the only person who survived.””
The handle began to turn.
And from the other side of the door came a voice I had heard only in old family recordings.
May you like
Daniel Hayes.
“Mark, it's time you learned why I let everyone believe I was dead.””
