Chapter 6 - VANESSA’S BABY WASN’T THE ONLY SECRET
Tyler confronted Vanessa without telling anyone.
That was exactly the kind of impulsive stupidity I had once loved about him.
At seven-fourteen the next morning, my phone rang.
Tyler.
I almost ignored it.
Then something told me not to.
“Hello?”
He was breathing hard.
“Jessica.”
“What happened?”
“Vanessa’s gone.”
My stomach tightened.
“What do you mean gone?”
“I went home.”
“Why?”
“I needed answers.”
“Tyler.”
“I know.”
“What happened?”
“She wasn’t there. Closet half empty.”
“Call police.”
“I did.”
“Anything else?”
Silence.
“Tyler.”
“There’s blood.”
I stood.
“What?”
“Bathroom floor.”
My nursing brain took over.
“How much?”
“I don't know. Not a lot. Maybe a few tablespoons.”
“Fresh?”
“Yes.”
“Any sign of injury?”
“No.”
“Pregnancy bleeding?”
“I don't know.”
“Did you call an ambulance?”
“Police are sending someone.”
Good.
Giovanni entered my kitchen while I was still on the phone.
He had started appearing in my life with disturbing regularity.
This time I had asked him to come.
Lily had school, and we needed to discuss security.
I covered the phone.
“Vanessa disappeared. Blood in bathroom.”
His expression changed.
“Address?”
I gave it.
He called someone.
Not private muscle.
A former FBI investigator working corporate security.
Progress.
Tyler said:
“There’s a note.”
“Read it.”
His voice shook.
Stop looking for things that have nothing to do with you. Your wife and child are safe as long as you cooperate.
My skin went cold.
“Wife and child?”
Giovanni heard.
His expression hardened.
“Photograph?” he asked.
I relayed.
Tyler sent it.
Giovanni studied the image.
“That note isn't from Vanessa.”
“How do you know?”
“Language.”
“That is not science.”
“No.”
He zoomed in.
“And because there’s a fingerprint in blood near the bottom.”
I looked closer.
A partial smear.
Not something a person staging a clean disappearance would likely leave intentionally.
“Call the FBI agent from yesterday.”
Already done.
Within an hour, the apartment became a crime scene.
Vanessa’s phone was found beneath the bed.
Her car remained in the garage.
Security footage showed her leaving at 5:42 a.m. with Dr. Aaron Pike.
Voluntarily?
The video wasn't clear.
He held her arm.
She looked upset.
Then came the next disaster.
A clinic nurse called Tyler.
Vanessa had undergone chorionic villus sampling three days earlier.
Genetic testing.
For the baby.
The results were scheduled for release that morning.
Tyler sat in my living room staring at the sealed electronic report.
He had authorization as her husband.
“I don't want to open it.”
I almost laughed.
“Then don’t.”
He looked at me.
“If she’s in danger—”
“The baby’s paternity does not change whether we find her.”
Giovanni nodded.
“She is still missing.”
Tyler rubbed his face.
“I need to know.”
That was Tyler.
Always needing certainty after choices had already been made.
He opened it.
I looked away.
Then heard him stop breathing.
“What?”
He handed me the phone.
PATERNITY CONSISTENT: TYLER BROOKS EXCLUDED.
I stared.
Tyler made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob.
The baby wasn't his.
Vanessa had spent months displaying her pregnancy beside him.
At my sister’s wedding, she had put both hands over her stomach and smiled at me.
All while carrying someone else’s child.
“Who?” Tyler whispered.
Giovanni’s phone buzzed.
He looked.
Then at Tyler.
“You probably won't enjoy the answer.”
“Who?”
“Aaron Pike.”
Tyler closed his eyes.
Of course.
Genetics chief.
Vanessa’s former colleague.
Secret accounts.
Hospital appointment.
Everything tightened.
Then I realized something.
“If Aaron is the father, why would he kidnap her?”
Giovanni leaned against the table.
“Maybe he didn't.”
“What?”
“Maybe she left with him because they’re running.”
“But the blood.”
“Could be real.”
“From the procedure?”
“Possibly.”
Tyler stood.
“She could be miscarrying.”
I hated that my first instinct was still clinical.
CVS could cause spotting.
Severe bleeding was less common.
“Police need to find them fast.”
They did.
Not because of sophisticated tracking.
Because Aaron Pike used Vanessa’s corporate fuel card two hours later at a gas station outside Milwaukee.
By afternoon, state police stopped his SUV.
Vanessa was inside.
Alive.
Bleeding.
She was taken to a hospital.
Aaron was arrested after officers found three encrypted drives and twenty thousand dollars in cash.
Vanessa asked for a lawyer.
Then she asked for me.
I laughed when the FBI agent told me.
“No.”
“She specifically requested you.”
“Still no.”
“She says she has information about Lily.”
That changed everything.
Giovanni drove me to Milwaukee.
I did not ask him.
He offered.
I accepted.
I was getting better at knowing the difference.
Vanessa lay in a private hospital room.
She looked terrible.
Pale.
No makeup.
IV in her arm.
The pregnancy was still viable.
Twenty-three weeks.
The baby was stable.
I stood near the door.
“You have five minutes.”
She cried immediately.
“Jessica.”
“Don’t.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No.”
“I didn't know it would become this.”
“What exactly did you think would happen when you helped hide my daughter from her father?”
Her face twisted.
“I was twenty-five.”
I almost laughed.
Apparently twenty-something had become the universal age of innocence.
“You were an adult.”
“Yes.”
“Did Robert Brooks pay you?”
She closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Two hundred thousand at first.”
“And then?”
“I helped with compliance.”
“Fraud.”
“Yes.”
“Genetic data?”
Tears slipped down her face.
“Yes.”
“How many people?”
“I don't know.”
“Thousands?”
“Yes.”
I felt sick.
“Why Lily?”
“Tyler asked me to process the test.”
“Then?”
“Robert found out.”
“How?”
“He monitored Tyler.”
“What did he do?”
“He told me to keep the result private.”
“And paid you.”
“Yes.”
“What happened to the original sample?”
Her expression changed.
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
“Jessica…”
“What happened?”
“Aaron retained it.”
“Why?”
“Research.”
I stopped breathing.
“What research?”
“Longitudinal pediatric genomics.”
“She was a newborn.”
“I know.”
“Without consent.”
“I know.”
I wanted to scream.
Instead, I asked:
“Is Lily still in their database?”
Vanessa nodded.
My hands went cold.
“What data?”
“Her genetic sequence. Hospital history. Some pharmacy claims.”
“She’s five.”
“I know.”
“Did they sell it?”
Silence.
“Vanessa.”
“Yes.”
The room blurred.
To insurance analytics companies.
Drug researchers.
Marketing intermediaries.
De-identified in some places.
Not in others.
My daughter had become a product before she could speak.
“Why tell me now?”
Vanessa cried harder.
“Because Aaron was going to destroy everything.”
“The drives?”
“Yes.”
“He asked you to run.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“He thinks federal investigators will find him first.”
“They did.”
“He wanted me to go to Canada.”
“And the blood?”
“Procedure complication.”
She touched her stomach.
“I started bleeding after we left.”
“Why didn't he take you to a hospital?”
“He said we couldn't stop.”
That made my anger shift.
Whatever Vanessa had done, Aaron had endangered her and the baby.
“Did he hurt you?”
She looked away.
“Vanessa.”
“He grabbed me when I tried to get out at a gas station.”
I closed my eyes.
“Tell the police.”
“I will.”
She wiped her face.
“Jessica.”
“What?”
“I hated you.”
“I noticed.”
“I thought you had ruined Tyler.”
I stared.
“He told me he couldn't move forward because of you.”
“And you believed him?”
“I wanted to.”
“Why?”
“Because if you were the problem, then what I was doing wasn't.”
At least that was honest.
She continued.
“When I got pregnant, Tyler was so happy.”
“Because he thought the baby was his.”
“Yes.”
“And you let him.”
Her face crumpled.
“I was going to tell him.”
“When?”
“After the wedding.”
I almost laughed.
Everyone had been planning honesty after the wedding.
“How convenient.”
“I know.”
She looked at me.
“Aaron is the father.”
“I know.”
She closed her eyes.
“Tyler knows?”
“Yes.”
A tear moved down her cheek.
“Okay.”
Not relief.
Not grief.
Just consequences arriving.
“Is that everything?”
“No.”
My stomach tightened.
“What else?”
She whispered:
“Robert Brooks has another database.”
“What database?”
“Family-linked profiles.”
I stared.
“For what?”
“To identify high-net-worth genetic relationships.”
I didn't understand.
Then I did.
Paternity.
Inheritance.
Family disputes.
Blackmail.
“Who bought access?”
“I don't know all of them.”
“Was my family in it?”
She nodded.
My skin went cold.
“Who?”
“Your father.”
I stopped breathing.
“My father is dead.”
“I know.”
“What are you saying?”
Vanessa looked terrified.
“Before he died, Dr. Hale ordered a private family test through Brooks.”
“What test?”
“He was trying to confirm whether Sophia was biologically his daughter.”
The room disappeared.
Sophia.
My sister.
The bride.
My father had doubted her paternity.
And Brooks Medical had kept the result.
“What did it say?”
Vanessa looked at me.
“I never saw the final report.”
“Who did?”
“Robert Brooks.”
My hands shook.
“Where is it?”
“He kept copies of every high-value family test in his private archive.”
“Why?”
“For leverage.”
I thought of my mother.
Dad.
Sophia.
Years of tension I had never understood.
May you like
Then Vanessa said:
“Jessica, I think Robert has been blackmailing your mother for years.”
