PART 3 — THE NAME IN THE CLASSIFIED FILE
My father thought the worst truth he would face that night was learning the daughter he had mocked for thirty years was a decorated combat pilot.
He was wrong.
Because the fourth name buried in the Alhadar file belonged to a man from his own past.
And when Dad finally told me who that man was, I realized my mission had never been random—and neither had Mike’s presence at the birthday dinner.
I had made it halfway across the restaurant parking lot when I heard the doors slam open behind me.
“Lauren!”
Dad.
I stopped beneath a streetlamp.
Snow drifted through the yellow light.
Mike stopped beside me.
Neither of us turned immediately.
“Lauren!”
Dad’s voice cracked the second time.
I looked back.
He was standing outside without his coat.
Seventy years old.
White dress shirt.
Expensive trousers stained with bourbon.
The amended Alhadar report trembled in his hand.
Ethan appeared behind him carrying Dad’s jacket.
“Dad, put this on.”
Dad ignored him.
His eyes were locked on me.
“Where did you get this?”
I stared at the report.
“General Caldwell gave it to me.”
“No.”
Dad shook his head.
“This page.”
He held up the final attachment.
“Where did this name come from?”
Mike’s posture changed.
“Richard.”
Dad turned toward him.
“You knew.”
Mike said nothing.
Dad stepped closer.
“You knew he was there.”
Mike’s face hardened.
“I knew someone was.”
“Don’t lie to me!”
“Dad.”
Ethan grabbed his arm.
Dad ripped free.
“I asked him a question!”
People inside the restaurant were watching through the windows now.
I was tired of audiences.
Tired of family truths becoming performances.
“Who is the name?” I asked.
Dad stopped.
The anger disappeared from his face.
Fear replaced it.
He looked at me.
Then at Mike.
Then back at me.
“Come inside.”
“No.”
“Lauren, please.”
“Tell me here.”
His lips trembled.
“It’s complicated.”
I almost laughed.
“Of course it is.”
“Please.”
I crossed my arms.
“You spent thirty years simplifying me into a failure because that story was convenient for you.”
He flinched.
“You don’t get to call your own secrets complicated.”
Mike looked away.
Dad stared at the report.
Finally, he read the name aloud.
“Lieutenant Colonel Nathaniel Hayes.”
My body went completely still.
Hayes.
I looked at Ethan.
He looked just as confused.
Then at Dad.
“Who is Nathaniel Hayes?”
My father closed his eyes.
“My brother.”
The snow suddenly felt colder.
“You don’t have a brother.”
Dad gave a broken laugh.
“That’s what I told you.”
I stared at him.
“What do you mean that’s what you told us?”
Ethan stepped forward.
“Dad, you told us Grandpa and Grandma only had one child.”
“I know.”
“Then who is Nathaniel?”
“My younger brother.”
My father looked down.
“He disappeared twenty-seven years ago.”
Twenty-seven.
I was three.
“Disappeared where?”
“I didn’t know.”
“Was he military?”
Dad nodded.
“Air Force?”
“No.”
He looked toward Mike.
“Army intelligence.”
Mike’s jaw tightened.
I noticed.
“So why was an Army intelligence officer in Alhadar with a classified reconnaissance element?”
Dad shook his head.
“I don’t know.”
“Why is his name in my mission report?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why did you react like you’d seen a ghost?”
“Because I thought he was dead.”
That stopped me.
“You thought?”
Dad looked at the page.
“We had a funeral.”
Ethan whispered, “What?”
“No body.”
Dad’s voice had become distant.
“Just a flag.”
I stared at him.
“When?”
“Twenty-six years ago.”
“What were you told?”
“That Nathaniel died during an overseas training accident.”
“Where?”
“Classified.”
I felt anger rise.
“And you accepted that?”
“What was I supposed to do?”
“Ask questions.”
Dad laughed bitterly.
“I did.”
“And?”
“Two men came to my office.”
His eyes moved toward Mike.
“They told me to stop.”
Mike went very still.
“What men?”
Dad stared at him.
“You really want to do this?”
Mike said nothing.
My pulse quickened.
“Mike?”
He looked at me.
“Captain, there are pieces of this I wasn’t cleared to discuss.”
“Wasn’t?”
He understood my emphasis.
“Until the Alhadar file was declassified.”
“Then you’re cleared now.”
“Some portions.”
“Start talking.”
Dad laughed without humor.
“That’s what I’ve been trying to get him to do.”
I turned on my father.
“You don’t get to stand on my side now.”
His mouth closed.
Mike exhaled.
“Nathaniel Hayes wasn’t ordinary Army intelligence.”
“What was he?”
“Special activities.”
“CIA?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Mike glanced toward the restaurant.
General Caldwell was standing inside near the doorway.
Watching.
That told me everything.
This conversation was not a surprise to him.
I looked at Mike.
“You knew my uncle?”
“No.”
“Then why did you recognize the name?”
“Because Shadow Watch wasn’t the first time I heard it.”
My stomach tightened.
“When?”
Mike looked toward Dad.
“Twenty-seven years ago.”
Dad went pale.
“You were there?”
Mike nodded.
“Where?”
“Virginia.”
Dad stumbled backward.
“No.”
“I was twenty-three,” Mike said. “Brand-new to the teams. I was attached to a security detail for a classified transfer.”
“What transfer?”
“A man.”
Dad whispered:
“Nathaniel.”
“Yes.”
I could hear the snow landing on my coat.
“What happened?”
Mike stared into the distance.
“We escorted him to an airfield.”
“Why?”
“I wasn’t told.”
“Was he a prisoner?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
Mike hesitated.
“He was leaving voluntarily.”
Dad looked stunned.
“He abandoned us?”
Mike’s eyes hardened.
“You have no idea what he was doing.”
“Then tell me.”
“I can’t tell you everything.”
Dad stepped forward.
“Twenty-six years I buried my brother.”
“And maybe that burial kept him alive.”
Dad stopped.
Mike continued.
“He was disappearing into a program that didn’t officially exist.”
“What program?”
Mike looked at me.
“Nightglass.”
The word meant nothing.
But General Caldwell opened the restaurant door behind us.
“That’s enough for the parking lot.”
We turned.
The General walked toward us wearing his overcoat.
His aide followed.
General Caldwell looked at me.
“Captain, come inside.”
I shook my head.
“Sir, with respect, I’m done being moved into rooms before people tell me the truth.”
His expression barely changed.
Then he nodded.
“Fair.”
My father stared at him.
“You knew Nathaniel.”
Caldwell answered immediately.
“Yes.”
Dad looked like he had been struck.
“You knew my brother was alive?”
“At various points, yes.”
“And you let me bury him?”
Caldwell’s voice hardened.
“Your brother made choices that protected people whose names you will never know.”
“I was his family.”
“And those choices protected you too.”
Dad looked away.
I stepped closer.
“Sir, why was Nathaniel in Alhadar?”
The General studied me.
“Because he had been tracking a network moving stolen American weapons through the region.”
“That was the reconnaissance mission?”
“Part of it.”
“And the other part?”
He hesitated.
“Locating a compromised intelligence asset.”
Mike whispered, “I knew it.”
I looked at him.
“Knew what?”
“Someone had sold them out.”
The General nodded.
“Nathaniel’s team was not supposed to be in that valley.”
“Then why were they?”
“They were redirected.”
“By whom?”
“We didn’t know.”
My stomach tightened.
“Did the enemy know they were coming?”
“Yes.”
“So it was an ambush.”
“Yes.”
Mike’s jaw clenched.
“Same as ours.”
I turned.
“What?”
Mike looked at General Caldwell.
The General said nothing.
Mike continued.
“My SEAL team was redirected into that valley too.”
My blood chilled.
“By the same person?”
“We believe so.”
Dad whispered, “Someone sent both teams there to die.”
General Caldwell nodded.
“And then I arrived.”
Nobody answered.
I looked from Mike to Caldwell.
“My A-10 was redirected too, wasn’t it?”
The General’s expression changed.
Barely.
But I saw it.
“No.”
“Sir.”
“Your original tasking was legitimate.”
“But?”
“You were not supposed to remain in the valley.”
“I know.”
“You were ordered to disengage.”
“I know.”
“What you did afterward was your decision.”
Something about the way he said it bothered me.
“Why was I assigned that sector?”
Silence.
“Sir?”
General Caldwell looked at my father.
Then back at me.
“Because somebody requested you.”
My skin went cold.
“Who?”
“You know.”
No.
I didn’t.
Then I did.
“Nathaniel.”
The General nodded.
My father whispered, “Why would Nathaniel request Lauren?”
“I never met him.”
Caldwell said nothing.
“Sir.”
“Your uncle knew exactly who you were.”
I felt the ground shift beneath me.
“How?”
“He followed your career.”
Dad stepped closer.
“He was watching her?”
“From a distance.”
“For how long?”
“Since she entered the Academy.”
My father looked at me.
I barely saw him.
An uncle I had been told never existed had watched my military career for years.
“Why didn’t he contact me?”
“He couldn’t.”
“But he could request me for combat support?”
“That request was not supposed to put you in extraordinary danger.”
I laughed bitterly.
“That worked out beautifully.”
The General accepted it.
“Yes.”
“Why me?”
“Because Nathaniel trusted your squadron.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Caldwell looked at my father again.
“Because of something Richard told him when Lauren was a child.”
Dad’s face went blank.
“What?”
General Caldwell said:
“You told Nathaniel she never quit.”
My father stopped breathing.
I turned slowly toward him.
Dad stared at the General.
“When?”
“Your last conversation.”
Dad’s eyes filled.
“No.”
“Yes.”
Dad covered his mouth.
For thirty years, my father had called me a failure.
But apparently, before his brother disappeared, he had once described me differently.
“What did you tell him?”
Dad looked at me.
“You were three.”
His voice broke.
“You fell off your little bicycle.”
I almost laughed.
“What?”
“You scraped both knees.”
He smiled through tears.
“You were bleeding everywhere.”
I remembered none of it.
“You screamed when your mother tried to take the bike away.”
Dad wiped his face.
“You got back on.”
His smile disappeared.
“Nathaniel was visiting.”
“What did you say?”
Dad closed his eyes.
“I said, ‘That girl doesn’t know when to quit.’”
General Caldwell said quietly:
“Nathaniel remembered.”
My throat tightened.
The irony hurt.
The one quality my father later mocked as stubbornness had been the quality his brother trusted enough to remember decades later.
Mike whispered, “And in Alhadar, you didn’t quit.”
I looked away.
General Caldwell continued.
“Nathaniel requested the call sign Shadow Watch specifically.”
I snapped back toward him.
“What?”
That made no sense.
“Call signs aren’t assigned by uncles.”
“Not your personal squadron call sign.”
He nodded toward Mike.
“The mission identifier.”
I stared.
Mike stared too.
“Shadow Watch was the mission designation?”
“Yes.”
My heart pounded.
“Then why did everyone start calling me that afterward?”
“Because Nathaniel used it over the radio.”
A memory surfaced.
Static.
Snow.
A male voice I had never identified.
Shadow Watch, if you can hear this, don’t come lower.
I had thought it was ground control.
It wasn’t.
My uncle.
I whispered:
“I heard him.”
General Caldwell nodded.
“He tried to wave you off.”
The memory sharpened.
Unknown ground element, identify.
No response.
Then:
Shadow Watch, turn north. That’s an order.
I had replied:
You’re not in my chain of command.
Mike laughed unexpectedly.
Even Caldwell smiled.
Dad cried harder.
“That sounds like her.”
For once, I didn’t resent him saying it.
I looked at the General.
“Did Nathaniel survive Alhadar?”
Caldwell’s expression changed.
Mike stopped smiling.
My stomach dropped.
“You said the second team survived.”
“The three operators did.”
“There were four names.”
Silence.
“Nathaniel?”
The General looked at me.
“He was separated from them before your crash.”
“Was he killed?”
“We don’t know.”
Dad whispered, “Again?”
Twenty-six years ago, Nathaniel had disappeared.
Now he had disappeared a second time.
I felt almost angry at a man I had never met.
“Where did he go?”
“We believe he pursued the person responsible for the ambush.”
“Alone?”
“Yes.”
“That’s insane.”
Mike gave me a look.
I realized what I had said.
“Okay.”
He almost smiled.
“Runs in the family.”
Dad didn’t.
“Did you search?”
“Extensively.”
“And?”
General Caldwell’s jaw tightened.
“Blood.”
Dad closed his eyes.
“Equipment.”
The General continued.
“His radio.”
“And no body.”
“No.”
Dad looked toward the snowy parking lot.
“Then he’s alive.”
“Richard—”
“No.”
Dad turned.
“You told me once he was dead.”
“Different circumstances.”
“No body then.”
He pointed toward the report.
“No body now.”
I understood something.
My father had spent thirty years turning certainty into armor.
Successful son.
Failed daughter.
Dead brother.
Prestigious career.
Everything placed into neat boxes.
Because uncertainty terrified him.
Maybe it always had.
General Caldwell said:
“We have had no confirmed contact from Nathaniel in six years.”
Dad’s shoulders fell.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I looked at it.
Mike saw.
“Who is it?”
“No idea.”
I answered.
“Hayes.”
Silence.
Then breathing.
A man’s voice.
Older.
Rough.
“You still answer like your father.”
Every muscle in my body tightened.
“Who is this?”
A quiet laugh.
“I was hoping you’d sound more like your mother.”
Dad was staring at me.
Mike moved closer.
General Caldwell’s expression sharpened.
“Identify yourself.”
The voice said:
“Tell Thomas Caldwell he still owes me twenty dollars.”
General Caldwell went completely still.
I looked at him.
“Sir?”
He whispered:
“Put it on speaker.”
I did.
“Nathaniel?”
My father nearly collapsed.
Nobody moved.
The voice answered:
“Hello, Tom.”
Dad made a sound I had never heard from another human being.
Half sob.
Half gasp.
“Nate?”
Silence.
Then:
“Richard?”
Dad grabbed the phone from my hand.
“Nate!”
His whole body shook.
“Nate, where are you?”
“Still loud, I see.”
Dad began crying.
“You’re alive.”
“For now.”
“Where are you?”
“Can’t say.”
“Come home.”
The response took several seconds.
“I can’t.”
Dad closed his eyes.
“Please.”
It was the first time I had ever heard my father beg.
Nathaniel said:
“Richard, listen to me carefully.”
Dad wiped his face.
“I’m listening.”
“You need to leave that restaurant.”
Everyone froze.
Mike scanned the parking lot.
General Caldwell immediately signaled his aide.
Dad whispered:
“What?”
Nathaniel’s voice hardened.
“Take Lauren.”
My pulse accelerated.
“Why?”
“Take everyone you care about and leave.”
General Caldwell stepped closer.
“Nate, what do you know?”
“You brought the Alhadar file.”
“Yes.”
“That file was never supposed to leave secure custody.”
“It was cleared.”
“No.”
Nathaniel’s voice became sharp.
“You were told it was cleared.”
General Caldwell went still.
“What are you saying?”
“The declassification order was forged.”
The air changed instantly.
Mike looked toward the restaurant.
I did too.
Forty guests.
Waiters.
Kitchen staff.
My brother.
My stepmother.
Everyone exposed.
General Caldwell’s aide was already speaking into his radio.
Nathaniel continued.
“Someone wanted Lauren to see that report tonight.”
My stomach dropped.
“Why me?”
“Because of the fourth attachment.”
“You?”
“No.”
I frowned.
“The names?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“Look at the bottom-right corner.”
General Caldwell opened the report.
He turned to the final attachment.
Bottom-right corner.
There was a tiny printed sequence.
Seven numbers.
Mike whispered:
“What is that?”
Nathaniel answered:
“Coordinates.”
The General’s face changed.
“To where?”
Nathaniel said:
“The location where the Alhadar traitor has been hiding for six years.”
My heart pounded.
“Why put it in my file?”
“Because he wanted me to see whether you would recognize it.”
“Who?”
Nathaniel went silent.
“Nate?”
General Caldwell’s voice hardened.
“Who forged the declassification?”
The line crackled.
Then Nathaniel said:
“The man standing inside Richard’s birthday party.”
Everyone turned toward the restaurant windows.
Forty faces stared back.
Dad whispered:
“Who?”
Nathaniel answered:
“The traitor who sent my team and Mike’s team into that valley.”
Mike’s hand moved instinctively toward a weapon he wasn’t carrying.
“Name.”
Nathaniel took a breath.
“Arthur Vale.”
My father stopped moving.
“No.”
I looked at him.
“You know him?”
Dad stared through the restaurant window.
One of his oldest law partners was standing beside the birthday cake.
Arthur Vale.
Sixty-eight.
Silver hair.
Perfect suit.
The man who had toasted my father earlier that night.
The man who had laughed when Dad called me a simulator pilot.
The man who had been our family attorney since I was a child.
The man I called Uncle Art when I was little.
Dad whispered:
“That’s impossible.”
Nathaniel said:
“Richard, Arthur never became your friend by accident.”
The room inside the restaurant shifted.
Arthur looked toward us.
Our eyes met through the glass.
He smiled.
Then he reached into his jacket.
Mike shouted:
“DOWN!”
The restaurant window exploded.
Glass burst outward.
Ethan hit the pavement.
Dad fell.
I grabbed him and rolled behind a parked SUV as another shot cracked through the night.
Guests screamed.
General Caldwell’s security detail moved.
Mike crawled toward Ethan.
“MOVE! MOVE!”
I looked at my father.
Blood was on his shirt.
“Dad!”
His eyes widened.
“It’s not mine.”
Glass.
Just glass.
Thank God.
Another shot.
Then silence.
Security stormed the restaurant.
My phone was still connected.
Nathaniel shouted through the speaker:
“Lauren!”
“I’m here!”
“Arthur has an exit through the kitchen.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I’m looking at the building.”
My blood froze.
“Where are you?”
No answer.
“Nathaniel!”
Mike shouted:
“Lauren!”
Arthur appeared behind the restaurant.
Running.
I saw him through the snow.
Dark suit.
Gun in hand.
A black SUV accelerated from the alley.
He ran toward it.
Security was too far away.
Mike grabbed my arm.
“Stay down.”
Then headlights appeared at the opposite end of the lot.
A battered pickup truck shot forward.
It slammed sideways into the black SUV before Arthur could reach it.
Metal screamed.
The SUV spun.
Arthur fell.
Security tackled him seconds later.
I stared at the pickup.
The driver’s door opened.
A tall older man stepped out.
Gray beard.
Heavy coat.
He walked with a slight limp.
My father rose behind me.
His entire body began shaking.
“Nate.”
The man stopped.
Twenty-six years vanished from my father’s face.
For one second, he wasn’t seventy.
He was a brother seeing a ghost.
Nathaniel Hayes looked at him.
Then at me.
His eyes stayed on my face.
I had never met him.
But somehow, standing in falling snow amid broken glass, flashing lights, and screaming guests, I knew him.
He smiled.
“Still don’t know when to quit?”
My throat closed.
I almost laughed.
Almost cried.
“You requested me.”
His smile disappeared.
“I requested your squadron.”
“Caldwell said you requested Shadow Watch.”
“I did.”
“Why?”
Nathaniel looked toward Arthur Vale being handcuffed.
“Because I knew Arthur was listening to military traffic.”
I stared.
“You used the name deliberately.”
“Yes.”
“To make him react?”
“To make him believe I had an extraction plan.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No.”
“Then why bring me into it?”
His face filled with regret.
“I never intended for you to come into that canyon.”
“You called for air support.”
“Not you.”
“But you knew my aircraft was overhead.”
“When I heard your voice.”
He looked away.
“I tried to send you home.”
I remembered.
Shadow Watch, turn north.
That’s an order.
“You failed.”
Nathaniel laughed softly.
“Family tradition.”
Dad walked toward him.
“Nate.”
Nathaniel looked at his brother.
Dad stopped several feet away.
Twenty-six years of questions sat between them.
Then Dad punched him.
Hard.
Nathaniel stumbled backward.
Mike muttered:
“Okay.”
Dad immediately grabbed his brother and pulled him into a hug.
Nathaniel froze.
Then hugged him back.
Both men cried.
I looked away.
Some moments belonged to other people.
Then Arthur Vale started laughing from the pavement.
Everyone turned.
Two officers held him down.
Blood ran from his lip.
He looked directly at me.
“Captain Hayes.”
I stepped closer.
Mike grabbed my arm.
“Careful.”
Arthur smiled.
“You really are difficult to kill.”
My stomach turned.
Nathaniel moved between us.
“Don’t talk to her.”
Arthur laughed.
“Still protecting the Hayes family.”
Dad stared.
“Why?”
Arthur looked at him.
“Why what?”
“Why my brother?”
Arthur smiled.
“Because Nathaniel discovered what your law firm was actually doing.”
Dad went still.
“My law firm?”
I looked at him.
Arthur continued:
“You thought all those defense clients came to us because you were brilliant?”
Dad’s face drained.
“Arthur.”
“Our firm moved money.”
Nathaniel said quietly:
“For arms brokers.”
Dad staggered.
“No.”
“You didn’t know,” Nathaniel said.
Arthur laughed.
“He didn’t want to know.”
That sentence hit Dad harder than anything else.
Because it was the same accusation I had made earlier.
He hadn’t wanted to know about me.
Hadn’t wanted to know about Nathaniel.
And apparently hadn’t wanted to know why his law firm’s international accounts were so profitable.
Arthur smiled.
“Richard liked success too much to examine it.”
Dad looked physically sick.
Nathaniel said:
“Arthur used your firm to hide payments tied to the Alhadar network.”
“And you found out.”
“Yes.”
“So you disappeared.”
“To protect you.”
Dad shook his head.
“You should have told me.”
Nathaniel looked at him.
“Would you have believed me?”
Dad opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
Arthur laughed again.
Then looked at me.
“But here’s the part Lauren doesn’t know.”
Nathaniel’s face changed.
“Shut up.”
Arthur smiled wider.
“There it is.”
I stepped forward.
“What don’t I know?”
“Lauren.”
Nathaniel turned toward me.
“Don’t.”
“No.”
I was finished with men deciding which truths I could handle.
“What?”
Arthur looked delighted.
“Ask your uncle who recommended you for the Air Force Academy.”
I frowned.
“My application?”
Dad said:
“I did.”
Arthur laughed.
“No, Richard.”
Dad stared.
Arthur looked at Nathaniel.
“He did.”
I turned toward my uncle.
“You were gone by then.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I wrote a recommendation under another identity.”
My throat tightened.
“Why?”
“Because I believed in you.”
That should have felt comforting.
Instead, something bothered me.
“You were watching me before I entered the Academy.”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
Nathaniel didn’t answer.
“How long?”
My father looked between us.
“Nate?”
Nathaniel finally said:
“Your whole life.”
The parking lot became silent.
“What?”
“I was there the day you were born.”
Dad whispered:
“You were overseas.”
Nathaniel closed his eyes.
“No.”
My heart started pounding.
Arthur smiled from the ground.
“Now we’re getting somewhere.”
Nathaniel turned on him.
“Shut your mouth.”
Arthur laughed.
“Tell her.”
I stared at my uncle.
“Tell me what?”
Nathaniel looked at Dad.
Then me.
His eyes filled with something I couldn’t identify.
Love.
Guilt.
Fear.
“Lauren, there’s another reason I followed your life.”
My father stepped forward.
“Nate.”
Nathaniel ignored him.
“Another reason I requested your squadron.”
I felt the cold deep in my bones.
“What reason?”
He reached beneath his coat.
Security tensed.
He slowly removed a small photograph.
Old.
Creased.
He handed it to me.
A young woman stood outside a hospital holding a newborn.
My mother.
Beside her stood Nathaniel.
Not Dad.
Nathaniel.
I turned the photograph over.
A handwritten date.
My birthday.
My father stared.
“No.”
Nathaniel’s eyes filled.
“Richard.”
Dad backed away.
“No.”
“I wanted to tell you.”
“No.”
“Dad?”
He wasn’t listening.
He stared at his brother.
Then at me.
Then at the photograph.
Arthur whispered from the pavement:
“Ask him why Lauren has his eyes.”
My heart stopped.
Dad looked at me.
Really looked.
Nathaniel closed his eyes.
And suddenly the secret in the Alhadar file was no longer about a mission.
It was about me.
My father whispered:
“Nate… what did you do?”
Nathaniel opened his eyes.
“I made one mistake before I disappeared.”
Dad’s face collapsed.
“What mistake?”
Nathaniel looked directly at me.
“Lauren wasn’t supposed to learn this tonight.”
My voice came out barely above a whisper.
“Learn what?”
He swallowed.
Then said:
“Richard raised you.”
My entire body went cold.
Behind us, even Arthur stopped laughing.
Nathaniel continued:
“But there’s a possibility I’m your biological father.”
END OF PART 3
PART 4 — THE DNA TEST MY FATHER HID FOR THIRTY YEARS
