Chapter 8 - The Test Vincent Was Afraid to Take
Grace’s blood pressure was 171 over 108 when Vincent returned to the hospital.
Hannah met him outside the room.
“You cannot upset her.”
“I do not intend to.”
“That is not the same as succeeding.”
Vincent accepted the criticism.
“What happened?”
“Headache.”
“Elevated liver enzymes.”
“Protein in her urine.”
Hannah lowered her voice.
“She is developing severe preeclampsia.”
Vincent felt something cold move through his chest.
“What does that mean?”
“It means the pregnancy is becoming dangerous for Grace.”
“And the baby?”
“Also at risk.”
“What do you do?”
“Steroids for fetal lung development.”
“Medication for blood pressure.”
“Magnesium sulfate if needed.”
“And we watch every minute.”
Vincent looked through the small window in the door.
Grace lay in bed with the lights dimmed.
One hand covered her eyes.
The other rested on her stomach.
“She looks alone.”
Hannah studied him.
“She has been alone for a long time.”
Vincent looked at her.
The doctor did not apologize.
He nodded once.
“Can I go in?”
“If she says yes.”
Vincent knocked.
Grace moved her hand from her face.
Her voice was weak.
“Come in.”
Vincent entered alone.
He closed the door softly.
Grace looked at him.
“Did you hurt Anthony?”
“No.”
“Promise?”
“I promised before I left.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Vincent sat down.
“No.”
Grace studied his face.
“What did he say?”
Vincent did not know where to begin.
So he began with the part that mattered most.
“He knew your mother was alive after she disappeared.”
Grace’s eyes closed.
“How long?”
“He saw her years later.”
“That’s the photograph.”
“Yes.”
“And before she died?”
Vincent hesitated.
“He spoke to her three days before.”
Grace opened her eyes.
“What?”
“He recorded the call.”
“Why?”
“He says he recorded threatening calls after my father died.”
Grace pushed herself higher despite the monitor wires.
“Let me hear it.”
“Not now.”
Her face hardened immediately.
“There it is again.”
“What?”
“You deciding what I can handle.”
Vincent’s jaw tightened.
“Your blood pressure is dangerous.”
“And my mother’s voice has been dead for sixteen years.”
He had no answer to that.
Grace held out her hand.
“Give me the recording.”
Vincent took out his phone.
Marco had copied the audio file.
He placed the phone on the bedside table and pressed play.
Grace heard Rebecca say Anthony’s name.
Her entire body went still.
It was not the voice Grace remembered from childhood.
It was breathless.
Frightened.
But it was her mother.
Grace knew the tiny upward turn at the end of certain words.
She knew the way Rebecca said “listen.”
She knew the pause before her mother tried not to cry.
By the time the recording ended, Grace’s cheeks were wet.
She did not wipe them.
Vincent looked toward the floor.
“She said Peter.”
“Yes.”
“Your uncle.”
“Yes.”
“Is he alive?”
“Yes.”
“Does he know I’m here?”
“I don’t know.”
Grace laughed weakly.
“You really hate lying, don’t you?”
“I have been lied to enough.”
Grace looked at him.
“So have I.”
They sat in silence.
Finally, Grace spoke.
“Anthony left me in foster care.”
Vincent’s face tightened.
“Yes.”
“Did you know?”
“No.”
“If you had known?”
Vincent looked at her.
“You would not have spent one night there.”
Grace’s mouth twisted.
“That sounds like something a rich man says because he doesn’t understand what those words cost.”
“Then tell me.”
Grace stared at him.
“What?”
“Tell me what they cost.”
She had not expected that.
Grace looked toward the window.
“My first foster mother locked cereal in a cabinet.”
Vincent said nothing.
“She said I ate too much.”
“I was twelve.”
“I weighed eighty-three pounds.”
Vincent’s hands curled into fists.
“My second home was better.”
“Until the father started coming into my room to check whether I was sleeping.”
Vincent’s face changed.
Grace looked at him sharply.
“Do not.”
His voice was low.
“Do not what?”
“Do not tell me his name if what you want is for me to stay calm.”
Grace held his gaze.
For a second, she almost laughed.
Then she did.
It was brief.
Painful.
But real.
Vincent’s expression softened.
Grace continued.
“I ran from that house.”
“I slept in a bus station for two nights.”
“Then they found me.”
“The third family was kind.”
“The mother taught me to drive.”
“She died when I was nineteen.”
Vincent’s eyes lowered.
“I am sorry.”
Grace nodded.
“That is what foster care cost.”
“And you think if you had known, you would have saved me.”
“Yes.”
“Maybe.”
Grace’s voice became quieter.
“But you didn’t know.”
“No.”
“And I survived anyway.”
Vincent looked at her.
The correction mattered.
Grace needed him to understand it.
She did not want her entire life rewritten as a tragedy only because a powerful man had arrived late.
She had built herself before he found her.
Poorly paid.
Exhausted.
Scared.
But built.
Vincent seemed to understand.
He nodded.
“You did.”
Hannah entered carrying another medication bag.
“Blood pressure is coming down.”
Grace exhaled.
“Good.”
Hannah checked the monitor.
“Your baby is behaving better too.”
Grace touched her stomach.
“Stubborn.”
Hannah smiled.
“Probably genetic.”
Vincent coughed to hide a laugh.
Grace glared at him.
Hannah adjusted the IV.
“There is something else I want to discuss while you are stable.”
Grace looked at her.
“The baby’s cardiac rhythm.”
Grace immediately tensed.
“What about it?”
“I want pediatric cardiology to evaluate her after delivery.”
“Is there a heart defect?”
“We have not identified a structural defect.”
“That’s good?”
“Yes.”
“But the arrhythmia needs follow-up.”
Grace nodded.
“Okay.”
Hannah looked toward Vincent.
“Anything else medical you two were planning to do?”
Vincent blinked.
Grace understood first.
“The DNA test.”
The room went quiet.
Hannah crossed her arms.
“Do you want one?”
Grace looked at Vincent.
He did not speak.
She appreciated that.
“I don’t know.”
Hannah nodded.
“You do not have to decide today.”
Vincent looked down.
Grace studied him.
“You want it.”
His eyes lifted.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
His answer was immediate.
“Because I want the truth.”
“Not because you want a daughter?”
Vincent took a breath.
“Both can be true.”
Grace looked away.
The words hurt in a place she had not expected.
She had spent her life pretending not to need a father because needing one had never produced one.
Now a man who might be that person sat beside her and admitted that he wanted the answer to be yes.
Grace hated how much that mattered.
“What if it says no?”
Vincent’s face did not change.
“Then I still owe your mother the truth.”
“And me?”
He looked at her.
“I would still make sure whoever is threatening you is stopped.”
“Why?”
“Because no result changes what happened in that lobby.”
Grace blinked.
He continued.
“You were treated as disposable.”
“You were not.”
Grace’s throat tightened.
Hannah quietly stepped toward the door.
Grace stopped her.
“Can you do the test here?”
Hannah turned.
“Yes.”
Vincent stared at Grace.
She kept her eyes on Hannah.
“How?”
“Cheek swabs from both of you.”
“Nothing invasive.”
“How long?”
“Standard testing takes several days.”
“Expedited can be faster.”
Grace nodded slowly.
“Do it.”
Vincent’s breath caught.
Grace looked at him.
“This does not make you my father.”
“No.”
“It does not give you rights over me.”
“No.”
“It does not mean I forgive anything your family did.”
“No.”
Grace nodded.
“Then do it.”
The swabs took less than five minutes.
When the technician sealed the samples, Grace felt absurdly disappointed.
Twenty-eight years of uncertainty had fit inside two plastic tubes.
The technician left.
Vincent stood.
“I should let you rest.”
Grace nodded.
He reached the door.
“Vincent.”
He turned.
“Did my mother ever tell you what she wanted to name a daughter?”
His expression shifted.
“Yes.”
Grace’s heart beat faster.
“What?”
“Grace.”
The room went completely still.
Grace stared at him.
Vincent looked almost afraid to breathe.
“She said if she ever had a daughter, she wanted a name that meant something beautiful you could still have after surviving something ugly.”
Grace’s eyes filled.
Vincent opened the door.
Before he stepped out, Marco appeared in the hallway.
His face was tight.
“Boss.”
Vincent turned.
“What?”
Marco looked briefly at Grace.
Then back at Vincent.
“We found Peter.”
“Where?”
Marco’s answer came quietly.
“At the airport.”
Vincent’s eyes narrowed.
“He was boarding a private plane.”
“To where?”
“Switzerland.”
Grace sat straighter.
Marco continued.
“And he had a briefcase with him.”
“What was inside?”
Marco looked at Grace again.
May you like
“Photocopies of pages from a blue handwritten ledger.”
