Chapter 3 - THE HAIRBRUSH
Lenora refused to explain the plane.
For seven minutes.
Dominic let silence do the work.
Samuel remained near the window.
Two security officers stood outside the office.
Lenora finally sat.
“Daniel told me he was leaving for New York.”
“When?”
“This morning.”
“Why?”
“Business.”
“Which business?”
“I don’t manage his schedule.”
Dominic almost laughed.
“You manage everyone’s schedule.”
Her eyes hardened.
“I am his wife, not his secretary.”
“Why did he dismiss his driver?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why did he file a paternity challenge against my daughter?”
That landed.
Lenora’s expression did not change enough.
Which meant she knew.
Dominic leaned forward.
“He didn’t, did he?”
She crossed one leg over the other.
“You should ask him.”
“I would love to.”
He turned his phone toward her.
“He appears unavailable.”
Lenora looked away.
Samuel spoke.
“Mrs. Ferraro, do you know anything about the petition?”
“No.”
Samuel nodded slowly.
“Then perhaps you can explain why your personal attorney uploaded supporting exhibits.”
Lenora’s head snapped toward him.
Dominic looked at Samuel.
“You didn’t mention that.”
“I wanted to hear her answer first.”
Lenora stood.
“You had no right to access—”
“It’s a public docket with sealed attachments logged by filer,” Samuel said calmly.
“The filing attorney is Charles Denton.”
Lenora said nothing.
Samuel continued.
“Your attorney.”
Dominic’s voice became very quiet.
“Sit down.”
Lenora did.
For the first time, reluctantly.
“What evidence?” Dominic asked.
Samuel removed another paper.
“A private laboratory report.”
Dominic took it.
The report claimed a DNA sample from Maisie was inconsistent with paternity from Dominic.
He stared.
Date:
Three weeks earlier.
His pulse slowed in the way it always did when anger became dangerous.
“How did anyone get my DNA?”
Samuel pointed.
“It claims a reference sample came from a drinking glass collected at a family dinner.”
Dominic remembered the dinner.
Lenora hosted it.
Maisie had stayed overnight afterward because Dominic left for Boston.
He looked at Lenora.
“And Maisie’s sample?”
Samuel read.
“Hair follicles.”
Dominic’s jaw tightened.
He left the office.
Lenora stood.
“Where are you going?”
He ignored her.
Maisie sat upstairs on the floor of her bedroom building a castle from wooden blocks.
Rosa sat nearby.
Dominic crouched.
“Maisie?”
She looked up.
“Did Aunt Lenora ever take hair from your brush?”
Rosa frowned.
Maisie stopped moving.
Dominic noticed.
“It’s okay.”
The little girl nodded.
“When?”
“At Aunt Lenora’s house.”
“What happened?”
“She said she wanted to fix my hair.”
Rosa looked alarmed.
Dominic stayed calm.
“Then?”
“She put some in a little bag.”
Dominic felt fury rise.
“What did she tell you?”
Maisie stared at the castle.
“She said grown-ups needed to check something.”
“What?”
“If I was really yours.”
Rosa whispered:
“Oh, sweetheart.”
Dominic’s chest tightened.
“How long ago?”
“Three sleeps at Aunt Lenora’s.”
Three weeks.
He reached for Maisie’s hands.
“Look at me.”
She did.
“Did you believe her?”
Maisie’s eyes filled.
“She said sometimes mommies make mistakes.”
Dominic closed his eyes for half a second.
Lenora had not simply challenged paternity in court.
She had planted doubt inside a seven-year-old.
“Maisie.”
The child looked terrified of the answer.
“You are my daughter.”
“But what if the test—”
“You are my daughter.”
“Even if—”
“Yes.”
She stopped.
Dominic’s voice softened.
“No piece of paper gets to tell me who you are to me.”
Maisie crawled into his arms.
He held her.
After a while, she whispered:
“Is Mommy still my mommy?”
Dominic almost broke.
Elena Ferraro had died four years earlier after a sudden cerebral aneurysm.
Maisie remembered fragments.
Perfume.
Songs.
A yellow blanket.
Not enough.
“Yes.”
“Even if she made a mistake?”
Dominic pulled back.
“Your mother didn’t make a mistake by having you.”
“Promise?”
“Yes.”
This promise required no hesitation.
Dominic returned downstairs ten minutes later.
Lenora stood beside the fireplace.
He placed the DNA report on the desk.
“You spoke to my daughter about this?”
Lenora’s face remained composed.
“I asked a question.”
“You told a seven-year-old her mother might have lied about who her father was.”
“She deserves truth.”
“So do you.”
Dominic looked at Samuel.
“Independent test.”
Samuel nodded.
“Already arranged.”
Lenora smiled.
“Good.”
Too confident.
Dominic noticed.
“Something funny?”
“No.”
She picked up her handbag.
“I simply think you should prepare yourself.”
Dominic stared at her.
“For what?”
“For discovering that Elena kept more secrets than you realized.”
He moved closer.
“Do not use my wife’s name to frighten my daughter.”
Lenora’s expression cooled.
“She was my family too.”
“No.”
Dominic’s voice dropped.
“She tolerated you.”
That hit.
Lenora turned toward the door.
Samuel spoke.
“One more question.”
She stopped.
“The laboratory in your filing closed six months ago.”
Lenora froze.
Dominic looked toward Samuel.
Samuel continued.
“The report is dated three weeks ago.”
Silence.
Lenora recovered.
“Then the date is wrong.”
“Maybe.”
Samuel smiled without warmth.
“Or the report is.”
Lenora left.
Dominic waited until the door closed.
Then his phone buzzed.
Unknown number again.
This time, not a photograph.
A voice recording.
Daniel.
Weak.
Angry.
“Dom, if you hear this, don’t sign the trust amendment.”
Static.
Then:
“Lenora isn’t doing this alone.”
The recording cut.
A final automated message appeared.
FILE CORRUPTED.
Dominic stared at the screen.
Samuel said quietly:
“That sounds like your brother.”
Dominic nodded.
But one detail bothered him.
Daniel had said trust amendment.
May you like
Not paternity petition.
Meaning there was another document Dominic had not yet seen.
