Caleb rolled his eyes.
‘Here we go.’
Jordan looked at him.
‘Say it again.’
Caleb’s confidence flickered.
‘Say what?’
‘What you shouted about my daughter.’
His father stepped between them.
‘This is not the place.’
‘You made it the place when you walked into a bank to take money from a child’s medical fund.’
Marisol slid a folder toward Jordan.
‘They attempted to use these to support their claim.
To be clear, they have no access.
We did not release funds or information beyond what your old trusted-contact settings allowed, and those appear to have been revoked yesterday.’
Jordan opened the folder.
Inside was a copy of Emma’s birth certificate, an old hospital form, and a sealed envelope with his mother’s handwriting on the front.
Jordan can never know.
His lungs stopped working for a second.
He knew before he opened it.
Maybe he had known for years in some buried place where pain waits until you are strong enough to name it.
Inside was a letter dated two months before Emma was born.
It was from Claire to Jordan’s mother.
Claire had confessed that there was a chance Jordan was not Emma’s biological father.
She said she was terrified Jordan would leave her.
She said Jordan was the only stable person in her life.
She begged his mother not to tell him until after the baby was born.
Jordan looked up slowly.
His mother covered her mouth.
‘You knew?’ he asked.
She cried harder.
