Robert continued, “And Ethan gave me your ledgers. For five years, you stole two point five million dollars from the company to buy Dana a penthouse. The lawsuit was filed yesterday. This house already belongs to Rebecca. The person leaving is you.”
Dana stared at Marcus as if he had become worthless overnight.
But Marcus had one more secret.
Two months later, we sat in Cook County Family Court. Marcus’s attorney argued that I was only a housewife and deserved nothing. Marcus smirked from the defense table, while Dana sat behind him, glaring at me.
Robert stood. “We are not here to debate the value of motherhood. We are here because Marcus stole company funds.”
Marcus slammed his hand down. “That was support money! Dana had my second son, Dylan. I was supporting my own child.”
Dana panicked. “Marcus, stop!”
Robert smiled coldly. “Did you ever take a DNA test?”
Marcus lifted his chin. “I didn’t need one.”
Robert turned to the judge. “Then we call Rick and Dylan.”
The courtroom doors opened. A tattooed man in his fifties shuffled in with a sullen teenager.
Dana screamed.
Rick spoke into the microphone. “I’m Dana’s ex. Dylan is my son. She paid me to keep quiet while she convinced some CEO he was the father.”
Marcus looked like lightning had struck him. He grabbed Dana by the collar. “You used me?”
Court officers dragged him away as he shouted.
The judge ruled in my favor. I received the house, the company shares, and control of the assets. Outside the courtroom, detectives arrested Marcus for embezzlement and corporate fraud.
As they cuffed him, he turned to me with tears in his eyes. “Rebecca, please. For twenty-five years together.”
I looked at him without pity. “The moment you brought her into my home and called me barren, those twenty-five years burned to ash.”
A week later, I became CEO.
In Marcus’s old office, still smelling of cigars, I began reviewing the damaged company records. Then Henry, the elderly CFO, knocked and entered with shaking hands.
“Rebecca,” he said, “I should have told you this long ago.”
He placed an old black notebook on my desk.
“It belonged to our first CFO. He left it before he died. It contains a secret about Marcus and Dana.”
Inside was a hospital death certificate.
Mother: Dana.
Date of Birth: December 18.
Cause of newborn death: congenital heart disease.
Date of death: three days after birth.
My hands went cold.
Ethan had arrived at our house on December 22.
“Turn it over,” Henry whispered.
On the back was a note: Fake DNA test bought for $30,000. Real baby was picked up outside.
The pen fell from my hand.
Marcus had not only been fooled about Dylan. He had been fooled about Ethan too. The baby he brought home believing was his own had not shared his blood at all.
Ethan walked in carrying coffee and froze when he saw my face.
“Mom?”
I handed him the notebook.
He read everything in silence. I expected him to break. Instead, he closed the book and placed his hands on my shoulders.
“It’s pathetic,” he said softly. “Marcus ruined his whole life raising children who were never his, all because of greed.”
Then tears filled his eyes. “But if I’m not theirs, who am I?”
He wiped my cheek and smiled gently. “It doesn’t change anything. The moment you held me and kept me warm, you became my mother.”
I cried against his chest. Still, one question would not leave us.
Where had Dana gotten him?
Weeks later, Ethan and I visited Marcus at Cook County Jail. He came in wearing an orange jumpsuit, thinner but still arrogant.
Ethan slid the death certificate and fake DNA note against the glass.
“Read it.”
Marcus read the papers. His face twisted in horror.
“No,” he whispered. “Fake. This is fake.”
“Your son died after birth,” Ethan said. “You destroyed your wife, your family, and your freedom for a lie.”
Marcus began laughing, then screaming, then smashing his forehead against the table until guards dragged him away.
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