Chapter 2 - The BrochureTasha waited until Noah was sleeping in the bassinet before she confronted Denise.
The older woman had moved into the hallway, pretending to answer messages on her phone.
Tasha closed the hospital-room door behind herself.
“How long?”
Denise looked up.
“What?”
“The brochure.”
Denise’s expression changed by only a fraction.
That was enough.
“How long have you and Marcus been discussing a DNA test?”
“I’m not discussing my son’s private concerns with you.”
“You already made them my sister’s public humiliation.”
Denise slipped her phone into her cardigan pocket.
“Marcus came to me because he was scared.”
“And you told him to ambush a woman three hours after childbirth?”
“I told him he had a right to certainty.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Denise crossed her arms.
Tasha was thirty-one, three years older than Nia, and usually the calmer sister. She worked in financial compliance for a regional credit union, where anger was useless unless it could be documented.
She had learned to watch faces.
Denise was uncomfortable.
Not guilty exactly.
Afraid.
“When did he first ask you about this?”
Denise glanced toward the maternity-room door.
“Months ago.”
Tasha felt her stomach tighten.
“How many months?”
“Why does that matter?”
“Because if Marcus spent months smiling through ultrasounds while preparing to question whether Noah was his, my sister deserves to know.”
Denise lowered her voice.
“There were reasons.”
“What reasons?”
“That is something Marcus needs to explain.”
Tasha stepped closer.
“No. You put yourself in it when you carried testing literature into the hospital.”
Denise’s mouth became a thin line.
“You need to be careful.”
Tasha almost smiled.
“Is that a warning?”
“It’s advice. Nia is vulnerable. Filling her head with conspiracy theories won’t help.”
“Interesting word.”
Denise frowned.
“Conspiracy.”
Tasha studied her.
“I never used it.”
For the first time, Denise looked genuinely rattled.
Then the room door opened.
Marcus stepped out.
His face was tired.
“Tasha, stop.”
“Tell me when it started.”
Marcus rubbed both hands down his face.
“This isn’t the hallway for this.”
“That didn’t stop you from turning a maternity ward into Maury.”
His eyes sharpened.
“Don’t.”
“Then answer me.”
Marcus stared through the small window in the door.
Nia sat in bed, watching Noah.
“She met someone.”
Tasha’s anger cooled into attention.
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“I saw her twice.”
“Doing what?”
“Getting into a car.”
Tasha waited.
Marcus said nothing else.
“That’s it?”
“No.”
He hesitated.
“Mom showed me screenshots.”
Denise looked at him sharply.
Tasha caught it.
“What screenshots?”
Marcus pulled out his phone.
“I’m not doing this here.”
“You already did this here.”
He opened a hidden photo album.
Three screenshots.
Tasha read the first.
The contact name had been cropped away.
I can’t tell Marcus yet.
Another message followed.
If he finds out before I have proof, everything blows up.
The second screenshot showed:
Meet me Thursday. Same place. Don’t call the house.
The third:
I hate lying to him, but I need time.
Tasha read them again.
“Who sent these to you?”
Marcus glanced at Denise.
“Mom received them.”
“From?”
“An unknown number.”
Tasha looked at Denise.
“And you decided anonymous screenshots were reliable enough to question your grandchild’s paternity?”
Denise bristled.
“They matched what Marcus had already seen.”
“What exactly did he see?”
Marcus answered.
“Nia meeting a man outside a coffee shop near the office.”
“And?”
“She got in his car.”
“And?”
“That’s enough to ask questions.”
“No,” Tasha said. “That’s enough to ask Nia.”
Marcus looked ashamed.
“I tried.”
“What did she say?”
“She said it was business.”
Tasha stared at him.
“And you decided business meant affair.”
“I didn’t decide anything.”
“You decided enough to carry a DNA brochure into the hospital.”
The door opened behind them.
Nia stood there.
Barely.
One hand gripped the IV pole.
The other pressed against the front of her gown.
Tasha immediately moved toward her.
“What are you doing out of bed?”
Nia ignored her.
Her eyes were on Marcus’s phone.
“What screenshots?”
Nobody answered.
Nia’s breathing changed.
“Marcus.”
He looked at her.
“You said this was a feeling.”
“Nia, sit down.”
“You said you needed certainty because the timing in your head felt wrong.”
“I said there were things I couldn’t explain.”
“What screenshots?”
Denise stepped forward.
“You need rest.”
Nia turned toward her.
“Stop telling me what I need.”
The hallway went silent.
A nurse at the station glanced over.
Marcus lowered his voice.
“I’ll show you.”
Nia held out her hand.
He gave her the phone.
She read the messages.
Her face changed.
Not guilt.
Recognition.
Tasha saw it immediately.
Marcus saw it too.
“There,” he said. “That’s exactly the face you made when I asked about the coffee shop.”
Nia looked up.
“These are mine.”
Marcus’s expression collapsed.
Denise went still.
Nia continued reading.
“Yes. I wrote these.”
Marcus swallowed.
“To who?”
Nia looked at Denise.
Something passed between them.
Fear.
Not of Marcus.
Of Denise.
Tasha saw that too.
“Nia?”
Nia handed the phone back.
“I’m not talking about this in a hallway.”
Marcus gave a bitter laugh.
“Of course not.”
Nia’s eyes flashed.
“You want honesty?”
“Yes.”
“Then start with your mother.”
Denise stiffened.
Nia pointed to the screenshots.
“Ask her where she got those.”
“She told me.”
“No.”
Nia shook her head.
“Ask her where she actually got them.”
Marcus stared at his mother.
Denise’s face had lost color.
Nia turned carefully and began walking back into the room.
Marcus followed.
“Nia, who were you texting?”
She stopped without looking back.
“I’ll tell you.”
Then she finally faced him.
“But after you tell me why the screenshots on your phone came from a conversation that was never on my personal phone.”
Marcus frowned.
Nia’s gaze moved to Denise.
“They were on the company tablet.”
Denise said nothing.
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Nia’s voice became almost a whisper.
“And only three people had the password.”
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