I remained standing beside the kitchen table, staring at Elise’s message while Felix moved around upstairs.
They are not.
Three words.
Felix and Helmut were not biologically related.
For several seconds, my mind tried to reject the significance of that fact. Families were complicated. Biology was not parenthood. Plenty of fathers raised children who were not genetically theirs.
But this family had paid thousands of dollars for a private test.
They had hidden the result.
They had begun pressuring Elise almost immediately afterward.
And Ingrid had treated the unborn baby less like a granddaughter than a piece of evidence she needed under her control.
My phone vibrated again.
Elise.
Are you there?
I typed with both thumbs.
Yes. Does Felix know the result?
Her response came immediately.
He ordered it. He knows.
Of course.
Does Helmut?
Longer pause.
I don’t know.
That distinction mattered.
I moved into the pantry and closed the door enough to muffle my voice before calling Elise.
She answered in a whisper.
“I’m at my attorney’s office.”
“Tell me exactly what you know.”
“My lawyer spoke to Silver Oak after Felix authorized release of the report.”
“Why would he authorize it?”
“Because he’d already referenced the test in messages to me. My lawyer told his lawyer that if they tried using anything from it against me, we’d demand the complete report.”
“So Felix gave permission.”
“Yes.”
“Does Helmut know he isn’t Felix’s father?”
“I don’t know.”
I pressed my shoulder against the pantry wall.
“What did Felix tell you about why he tested?”
“Nothing directly.”
“You said he mentioned a family concern.”
“That’s all I knew.”
“Who provided Helmut’s sample?”
“I don’t know.”
That question had been bothering me.
“You can’t test someone without DNA.”
“There are ways to obtain samples.”
“I know.”
The thought made me uncomfortable.
Hairbrush.
Drinking glass.
Discarded tissue.
Something Felix could have collected without his father’s knowledge.
“Did Silver Oak say what kind of sample?”
“My attorney didn’t tell me.”
“Ask.”
“I will.”
A floorboard creaked upstairs.
I lowered my voice.
“And the result definitely excludes Helmut?”
“Yes.”
“How definite?”
“Nora, I’m not a geneticist.”
“Neither am I.”
“My lawyer said the report states the tested relationship is excluded.”
I closed my eyes.
“What about Ingrid?”
“What about her?”
“Has Felix tested whether she’s his mother?”
“I don’t know.”
The pantry suddenly felt too small.
I opened the door.
Felix’s footsteps crossed the hallway upstairs.
“Listen,” I whispered. “Don’t mention this to anyone except your lawyer.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“Especially Ingrid.”
“Why?”
“Because I think she already knows.”
Silence.
“What makes you think that?”
I pictured Sunday dinner.
Ingrid’s urgency.
Her obsession with keeping the baby close.
Her warning that Elise could become unpredictable.
Her certainty that I would accept the child.
“I don’t know yet.”
That was not enough.
Not anymore.
“I’ll call you tomorrow.”
I ended the call and stepped back into the kitchen.
Felix came downstairs carrying his laptop.
He stopped when he saw me.
“What are you doing?”
“Looking for tea.”
“In the pantry?”
“Yes.”
His gaze moved to my phone.
I slipped it onto the counter.
“Did you find any?”
“Apparently we’re out.”
“We have chamomile.”
“Where?”
He opened the cabinet beside the refrigerator.
A box sat directly in front.
“You okay?”
I laughed softly.
“Clearly not. I’m losing the ability to find tea.”
He smiled.
But his eyes did not.
He watched me fill the kettle.
I wondered whether he could sense the knowledge between us even without knowing what it was.
“Who were you talking to upstairs?” I asked.
“Work.”
“At nine thirty?”
“International client.”
“What country?”
The question came too quickly.
Felix paused.
“Germany.”
I almost smiled at the irony.
“Right.”
He opened his laptop.
I made tea.
Neither of us mentioned Dr. Harris again.
The next morning, Evelyn asked me to come to her office before work.
When I arrived, she had already spoken with Elise’s attorney.
“The report appears legitimate,” she said.
“So Helmut isn’t Felix’s father.”
“Biologically, according to the test.”
“Does Helmut know?”
“No evidence yet.”
“Does Ingrid?”
“No evidence.”
I sat opposite her.
“Then why does it matter to the baby?”
“We need more information.”
“I have a theory.”
“I’m sure you do.”
The dry answer almost made me smile.
“Ingrid knows Felix isn’t Helmut’s son.”
“That is possible.”
“Maybe Helmut doesn’t.”
“Also possible.”
“And the baby creates a problem.”
“How?”
I hesitated.
Saying the theory aloud made it sound less certain.
“If someone tests the baby.”
“For what?”
“I don’t know.”
Evelyn leaned back.
“Genetic relationships do not announce themselves spontaneously, Nora. A baby being born does not automatically reveal the biological identity of its grandfather.”
“I know.”
“Then there must be another reason for urgency.”
I thought about it.
“What if Helmut wants a genetic test?”
“Why would he?”
“Because Felix and I supposedly couldn’t have children.”
Evelyn’s expression changed.
That was the first time I felt I had reached something real.
“Explain.”
“Felix told Elise that Weber men had fertility problems.”
“Yes.”
“What if Helmut believes Felix inherited his?”
Evelyn picked up her pen.
“And if Elise’s baby is biologically Felix’s…”
“Then Felix having a child might raise questions.”
“Not necessarily.”
“No. But enough to make Ingrid nervous.”
“Possibly.”
I leaned forward.
“What if Helmut’s fertility problem made biological fatherhood impossible?”
Evelyn stopped writing.
The room went quiet.
“That would be significant.”
“So we need Helmut’s medical history.”
“No.”
I stared at her.
“No?”
“You do not need to obtain your father-in-law’s private medical history.”
“But—”
“Nora.”
Her tone ended the argument.
“We investigate information that is legally relevant to you. We do not start invading everyone’s medical privacy because your husband did.”
I sat back.
“You’re right.”
“I usually enjoy hearing that.”
“Don’t get comfortable.”
A faint smile appeared.
Then she became serious again.
“There is another issue.”
I waited.
“Your fertility records.”
My stomach tightened.
“The clinic released more?”
“Your physician notes indicate Felix was repeatedly advised to complete updated testing.”
“How repeatedly?”
“Three times.”
I looked down.
“Three.”
“Yes.”
“And he refused?”
“According to the notes.”
“Why did treatment continue?”
“You consented to it.”
“Without knowing he refused.”
“That may become important.”
I rubbed my forehead.
“What exactly was wrong with his earlier test?”
“The notes avoid stating his private result.”
“So we still don’t know.”
“Correct.”
“But Felix knows.”
“Presumably.”
“And Dr. Harris may know.”
“Yes.”
I stood and walked toward the window.
“Can I talk to him?”
“About your own treatment, absolutely.”
“Today.”
“If possible.”
I called from Evelyn’s office.
Dr. Harris had retired from full-time practice but still consulted at the clinic twice a month.
The receptionist agreed to send him a message.
He called me that afternoon.
His voice had aged.
“Nora.”
“Dr. Harris.”
“It has been a long time.”
“Yes.”
He sounded cautious.
“I understand you have questions about your records.”
“One question first.”
“All right.”
“Did Felix hide information from me during treatment?”
Silence.
A long one.
“I cannot discuss your husband’s confidential medical information without authorization.”
“I’m not asking what his results were.”
“What are you asking?”
“Whether information relevant to my treatment was withheld from me.”
Another silence.
“I can discuss decisions documented in your chart.”
“Please.”
“You were advised that additional partner testing would be beneficial.”
“No. Felix was.”
“That recommendation concerned the couple.”
“Did you tell me he refused?”
“I believed you were aware.”
My eyes closed.
“Why?”
“Because Felix said the two of you had discussed it.”
There it was.
Another lie.
“No.”
Dr. Harris was quiet.
“He told you I knew?”
“He indicated you had mutually decided not to pursue additional testing at that time.”
I gripped the phone.
“I never made that decision.”
“I understand.”
“Do you?”
“Nora—”
“I spent years thinking there was something wrong with my body.”
“I never told you that.”
“No. But you kept treating me.”
His voice softened.
“I treated you based on the decisions presented to me as joint decisions.”
“Except they weren’t.”
“No.”
The admission hurt more than defensiveness would have.
I stared at my office door.
“Was there a reason you wanted Felix retested?”
“I cannot disclose his medical information.”
“Would that reason have changed what treatments you recommended for me?”
A pause.
“Potentially.”
I swallowed.
That was enough.
Not everything.
But enough.
“Thank you.”
“Nora.”
“Yes?”
“I am sorry you were not fully informed.”
I nearly ended the call.
Then another thought struck me.
“Dr. Harris, did Felix ever ask you about genetic paternity testing?”
Silence.
“I cannot answer questions about his private consultations.”
That was an answer of its own.
I thanked him and hung up.
That evening, I went home later than usual.
Felix was in the kitchen.
No dinner.
No flowers.
No performance.
He stood with both hands on the counter.
“Where were you?”
“Work.”
“I called.”
“I was in a meeting.”
“With Leah?”
“No.”
He stared at me.
“Who?”
“A client.”
“What client?”
I put my handbag down.
“Since when do you interrogate me about clients?”
“I’m not interrogating you.”
“It feels like it.”
His expression changed.
He came closer.
“I’m worried about you.”
“Why?”
“You’ve been distant.”
“I’m tired.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because it’s true.”
He reached for my hand.
I moved toward the refrigerator before he could touch me.
The movement was small.
He noticed.
“Nora.”
I opened the refrigerator.
“What?”
“Are you angry with me?”
The question almost made me laugh.
I looked at him.
“For what?”
His face became unreadable.
That was the moment I realized how much he wanted me to name something.
Anything.
The family lunch.
Elise.
Adoption.
Fertility.
If I accused him, he would finally know which fire he needed to put out.
So I gave him nothing.
“I’m not angry.”
He searched my face.
“Then what’s wrong?”
“I don’t know.”
The answer unsettled him more than anger would have.
He turned away.
For the rest of the evening, he barely spoke.
At eleven thirty, after he fell asleep, my phone vibrated on the bathroom counter.
Elise.
Her attorney had learned how Felix obtained Helmut’s sample.
A drinking glass.
Felix had taken it from Ingrid and Helmut’s house after Christmas dinner.
Helmut had not consented.
I read the message twice.
Then another arrived.
There’s more.
I waited.
Felix asked Silver Oak to compare Helmut not only to him.
My pulse accelerated.
To whom else?
The reply appeared.
Sabine.
I stared at the name.
Sabine.
Felix’s sister.
Another message.
Helmut is Sabine’s biological father.
The bathroom became utterly silent.
I sat on the edge of the tub.
Felix and Sabine had grown up in the same house.
Same mother.
Same presumed father.
But only Sabine was Helmut’s biological child.
Which meant Ingrid had not merely hidden an affair decades ago.
She had built an entire family around it.
And Felix had discovered the truth before Elise’s pregnancy became public.
I looked toward the bedroom door.
Suddenly the question was no longer whether Ingrid knew.
The question was whether Felix had confronted her.
And what she had promised him in exchange for keeping Helmut ignorant.
Click here to continue reading: PART 10: Felix Had Tested His Sister Too, and a Secret Meeting With Ingrid Revealed the Bargain They Had Made Behind Helmut’s Back
My Husband Raised His Glass, Spoke in the Language He Thought Was Safe, and Changed Our Marriage Before Dessert Arrived
Part 9 of 35
