Chapter 5 - The DNA Test Was RealThe blood sample existed.
That was the worst part.
Malcolm confirmed it within hours.
Andrew’s cardiology team had stored specimens for genetic testing related to his heart condition.
One vial remained in a Boston research repository.
Someone requested release six weeks earlier.
The authorization appeared to come from Andrew’s estate representative.
Celeste.
Because she still handled certain estate matters.
Legally, perhaps she could request records.
But biological specimens required stricter authorization.
The request carried Malcolm’s signature too.
He had never signed it.
Another forgery.
“They’re building everything on forged documents,” Evelyn said.
Malcolm shook his head.
“Not everything.”
“What?”
“The lab received a court subpoena yesterday.”
“From the parentage case.”
“Yes.”
“So now they may legally test the sample.”
“Yes.”
Evelyn looked toward the guest room where Madison slept.
“If the result says Andrew wasn’t her biological father?”
“We deal with it.”
“What does that do to the trust?”
“Potentially a lot.”
Andrew’s will defined Madison as “my daughter Madison Rebecca Whitmore.”
No biological qualifier.
Good.
But Thomas’s preservation trust was older.
It defined protected descendants as “lineal biological issue.”
Bad.
“If Andrew adopted her legally?” Evelyn asked.
“Then his will remains strong, but the preservation restriction could be challenged.”
“Did he?”
“Madison was born during his marriage to Rebecca. He was listed on the birth certificate. No adoption.”
Presumed fatherhood.
Could survive even if biology differed.
But Charles’s lawyers might argue otherwise.
“Does Celeste know the result already?”
“She shouldn’t.”
“Could Grant?”
“Possibly.”
Evelyn thought about Celeste’s confidence.
Tomorrow we find out.
Perhaps she genuinely didn’t know.
Or perhaps someone had secretly tested earlier.
They contacted the laboratory.
No prior result associated with this case.
Good.
Then Malcolm received the 1983 file from a retired attorney’s archive.
More pages.
Still no page four.
But correspondence between Thomas and Charles.
Charles wrote:
I will not sign away the final twenty acres unless you honor Rebecca’s claim.
Evelyn frowned.
“Rebecca?”
Madison’s mother was Rebecca.
But these letters were written decades before she was born.
“Different Rebecca,” Malcolm said.
“Who?”
Research.
Rebecca Weller.
Charles’s younger sister.
She had worked with Thomas and Charles during the original land acquisition.
Then vanished from corporate records.
Evelyn felt a strange unease.
“What claim?”
Another letter.
Thomas:
Rebecca has no ownership interest. Her contribution was personal, not capital.
Charles:
Without her money, neither of us would own a foot of Hawthorne.
So a third person may have funded the land.
Rebecca Weller.
“What happened to her?” Evelyn asked.
Malcolm searched.
Rebecca Weller married.
Changed name.
Moved to Virginia.
Died fifteen years ago.
Children?
One daughter.
Name:
Laura Bell.
Evelyn froze.
Bell.
Celeste’s maiden name.
“No.”
Malcolm stared.
“Celeste Bell.”
They traced.
Laura Bell had one daughter.
Celeste.
Evelyn sat back.
Celeste was Charles Weller’s grand-niece.
Rebecca Weller’s granddaughter.
The family connection had been hidden in plain sight because Charles and Rebecca carried different surnames from Celeste.
Celeste had not randomly married Andrew.
At least not from the beginning.
She came from the family that believed Thomas Whitmore stole Hawthorne land.
“Did Andrew know?” Evelyn whispered.
Malcolm found nothing.
But Celeste certainly did.
Her mother’s records connected directly.
The house was not only money to her.
It was family grievance.
“What did Rebecca contribute?”
More digging.
Bank records from 1982 showed Rebecca wired $70,000 toward the land purchase.
A major sum.
The purchase agreement listed only Thomas and Charles.
If Rebecca expected ownership, she was excluded.
Maybe legally.
Maybe wrongfully.
“What did Thomas do?”
Evelyn asked.
Malcolm shook his head.
“We need page four.”
That missing page might explain everything.
At midnight, Madison came downstairs.
She had overheard voices.
“Who is Rebecca?”
Evelyn looked at her.
“You should be asleep.”
“Celeste’s grandmother?”
Evelyn closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
“So this is about her family too.”
“Yes.”
“Did Grandpa Thomas steal the house?”
“I don’t know.”
Madison crossed her arms.
“You keep saying that.”
“Because pretending certainty would be easier and wrong.”
Madison sat.
“If he did…”
Evelyn waited.
“Then maybe we should give it back.”
The simplicity startled her.
Malcolm looked at Evelyn.
Madison continued.
“If it’s theirs.”
Evelyn smiled sadly.
“That is what we need to determine.”
“But Celeste hurt me.”
“Yes.”
“Does that mean she can’t be right about the house?”
“No.”
That answer surprised Madison.
“People can be wrong about one thing and right about another.”
Madison nodded slowly.
Then:
“What if she’s right that Dad wasn’t my dad?”
Evelyn’s chest hurt.
“You are still Madison.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“No.”
Evelyn leaned forward.
“Your father is the man who raised you, loved you, sat beside you when you had pneumonia, taught you to ride a bike, and burned pancakes every Sunday.”
Madison smiled despite herself.
“He did burn them.”
“He was terrible.”
“But DNA?”
“We’ll face it when we know.”
Madison looked toward the folder.
“Can I know tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“Promise?”
“Yes.”
After she returned upstairs, Malcolm said quietly:
“You’re handling that better than I would.”
“No.”
Evelyn looked at the ceiling.
“I’m terrified.”
Then her phone rang.
Unknown number.
She answered.
A man’s voice.
“Mrs. Whitmore?”
“Yes.”
“My name is Peter Weller.”
Evelyn knew the surname immediately.
Charles’s son.
“I think my father is making a mistake.”
Evelyn sat straighter.
“What mistake?”
“He believes Celeste is helping recover our family’s land.”
“And?”
Peter lowered his voice.
“She isn’t.”
Evelyn felt cold.
“What is she doing?”
“She’s selling it.”
“To whom?”
A pause.
“An investment group.”
“Which one?”
Peter answered.
“Not Ashcombe.”
Evelyn frowned.
“What?”
“Ashcombe is just the first transfer.”
The mansion was going to pass through Ashcombe for less than twenty-four hours.
May you like
Then be sold again.
And Celeste stood to receive eight million dollars when the second sale closed.
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