Chapter 8 - BRIelle’S OTHER PHONE
Three days before the paternity results were expected, Brielle disappeared.
Not literally.
She stopped answering Preston.
She missed a prenatal vitamin consultation.
She did not return Marian’s calls.
She did not go to the Northline condominium.
Her apartment appeared empty when Preston drove past.
By the second day, Marian was worried.
Preston was angry.
Everett was suspicious.
Then Celeste received a message from someone nobody expected.
Evan Cross.
Celeste knew his name from the ultrasound.
She had never met him.
His message contained only five lines.
You don’t know me.
I am not trying to create trouble.
Brielle told me your family believes Preston is the father.
There are things you should see before the test result comes back.
Ask Brielle about the second phone.
Celeste called Preston.
He arrived at her house twenty minutes later.
Mason came too.
Their parents were not invited.
Celeste showed them the message.
Preston stared at Evan’s name.
“Give me the number.”
“No.”
He looked at his sister.
“Celeste.”
“No.”
“I’m calling him.”
“You’re not calling anybody until we understand what he wants.”
Mason read the message twice.
“What second phone?”
Preston shook his head.
“I don’t know.”
Celeste looked at him.
“You spent eight months with this woman and you never saw another phone?”
“No.”
Mason muttered.
“Apparently nobody in this story knows anyone.”
Preston glared.
“Shut up.”
Celeste typed a response.
What do you want us to see?
Evan replied almost immediately.
Messages.
Then photographs began arriving.
The first was a screenshot of Brielle messaging Evan eleven weeks earlier.
I’m late.
Another.
Don’t panic. It could still be Preston’s.
Preston’s face changed.
Celeste looked at him.
The next screenshot arrived.
Evan had replied.
Does he know we were together?
Brielle’s answer:
Absolutely not.
Another message followed.
If the dates work, I’m telling him it’s his.
Mason whispered.
“Jesus.”
Preston snatched Celeste’s phone.
More screenshots appeared.
Brielle had told Evan that Preston was “finally useful.”
She told him the Hales were “obsessed with a boy.”
She said Marian would probably “plan the wedding herself” if she believed the child was Preston’s.
Then came a message that made Celeste sit down.
If this works, my child grows up with Hale money instead of watching us struggle.
Evan had replied.
Our child?
Brielle’s response came seven minutes later.
I don’t know whose child it is.
Preston stared at the words.
Nobody spoke.
Mason finally asked.
“Why would Evan send these now?”
Celeste typed the question.
The response came quickly.
Because she told me she would tell Preston I assaulted her if I challenged paternity.
Silence.
Preston looked up.
“What?”
Another message appeared.
I saved everything.
I want a DNA test.
Celeste looked toward her brother.
“You need a lawyer.”
“I have one.”
“A different lawyer.”
Preston stood.
“Where is Brielle?”
Evan’s next message answered that.
Her sister’s place in Richmond.
Preston grabbed his keys.
Celeste stood.
“No.”
“I’m going there.”
“You are absolutely not.”
“She threatened him.”
“And if you appear at her sister’s house furious, what do you think she’ll say you did?”
Preston stopped.
Celeste was right.
For once, he knew it.
Mason leaned back.
“What happens if the baby is Evan’s?”
Nobody answered.
Then Mason asked the question nobody in the Hale family had been willing to say aloud.
“And what happens if it’s Preston’s?”
That was worse.
Because the screenshots proved Brielle had been willing to deceive Preston regardless.
If the baby belonged to Evan, Preston had destroyed his family for another man’s child.
If the baby belonged to him, he would spend the rest of his life co-parenting with a woman who had openly considered using paternity as a financial strategy.
There was no good result anymore.
Only different kinds of damage.
Preston sat.
For the first time, he did not look angry.
He looked tired.
“My daughters won’t talk to me.”
Celeste stared at him.
“Why are you telling us that now?”
“Because I called Ava this morning.”
“And?”
“She declined.”
Mason looked away.
Preston rubbed his hands together.
“Grace talked for four minutes.”
Celeste waited.
“She mostly showed me a seashell.”
Something in his voice finally sounded human.
Celeste sat beside him.
“What do you want, Preston?”
He did not answer.
“No.”
She pressed.
“Forget Brielle.”
“Forget the test.”
“Forget Dad.”
“Forget the company.”
“What do you actually want?”
Preston stared at the floor.
“I want my family back.”
Celeste’s expression changed.
“Which one?”
He looked up.
She held his gaze.
“That is the entire problem.”
“You keep saying family as though everyone is interchangeable.”
“Lena wasn’t interchangeable.”
“You acted like she was.”
“Ava and Grace aren’t interchangeable.”
“You acted like they were.”
“The unborn baby isn’t interchangeable either.”
“You spent months treating him like a trophy.”
Preston’s eyes narrowed.
“I love him.”
Celeste shook her head.
“You love what you thought he proved.”
That sentence hit him.
Preston stood.
“You don’t know what Dad was like with me.”
Celeste laughed bitterly.
“We had the same father.”
“No.”
“He never did it to you.”
“Did what?”
Preston’s voice lowered.
“Made everything about continuing the Hale name.”
Celeste went still.
Preston continued.
“When I was fourteen, he told me one day the company would depend on me.”
“When I got engaged to Lena, he asked whether we wanted children.”
“When Ava was born, he congratulated me and then joked that we’d ‘get the next one right.’”
Celeste stared toward the floor.
Mason looked uncomfortable.
Preston continued.
“When Grace was born, Dad stood in the hospital hallway and said maybe three daughters would be our lucky number.”
Celeste’s face hardened.
“Then why did you repeat it?”
Preston stopped.
She looked at him.
“You knew exactly how it felt.”
“You knew how ugly it was.”
“And instead of protecting your daughters from it, you passed it to them.”
Preston had no answer.
Mason stood.
“Dad is changing.”
Preston laughed.
“Conveniently.”
“Maybe.”
Mason shrugged.
“But Ava and Grace don’t care when he changed.”
“They care whether we change now.”
Celeste’s phone buzzed.
Not Evan.
A FamilyBridge notification forwarded by Preston’s tablet.
A new message from me.
Preston opened it.
Ava has asked that you not request direct calls for the next two weeks.
His face tightened.
He kept reading.
Grace remains comfortable with short Sunday calls.
Please do not question Grace about Ava or ask her to carry messages.
At the bottom was one more line.
Ava has begun meeting with a child counselor recommended by her new school.
Preston stared.
“She’s in counseling?”
Celeste looked at him.
“That might be good.”
“Because of me?”
Nobody answered.
His phone rang.
Daniel.
Preston stepped into the kitchen.
“Tell me something good.”
Daniel was silent.
Then he said.
“The court ordered repayment of the education funds pending final review.”
Preston closed his eyes.
“How long do I have?”
“Ten business days.”
“I don’t have $180,000 liquid.”
“You may need to sell something.”
“Everything is frozen.”
“Personal property isn’t.”
Preston looked through Celeste’s kitchen window.
His car sat outside.
A black Aston Martin he had bought eight months earlier.
The same week I had told him Ava’s summer program would cost $3,400.
He had said it was unreasonable.
The car cost more than $200,000.
Daniel seemed to know where his thoughts had gone.
“Sell the Aston.”
Preston did not answer.
“Preston.”
“I heard you.”
“That account belongs to your daughters.”
“I know.”
“No.”
Daniel’s voice grew firmer.
“You know now.”
The call ended.
Preston stared at the car.
For the first time, he saw it differently.
Not as a reward.
Not as success.
As Grace’s college tuition.
As Ava’s dance camp.
As a piece of the life he had been willing to fund while telling his daughters there was not enough for theirs.
May you like
The next morning, the Aston Martin was listed for sale.
And four days later, the paternity results arrived.
