The next morning, Felix left without saying goodbye.
I listened from bed as the front door closed.
His car started.
Then silence settled over the house.
I remained beneath the covers for another minute, staring at the ceiling.
Sabine was Helmut’s biological daughter.
Felix was not his biological son.
One mother.
Two fathers.
A secret at least as old as Felix himself.
The facts explained Ingrid’s fear.
They did not explain Felix’s behavior.
If he had discovered that Helmut was not his biological father, why hide it?
Why involve Elise?
Why pressure her about the baby?
Why create an adoption scheme centered on me?
There had to be another layer.
I called Elise before getting dressed.
“Did Felix test Ingrid?”
“No record of it.”
“So we’re assuming she’s his mother.”
“Yes.”
“Any reason not to?”
“None.”
“And Sabine?”
“The report says Helmut is consistent with being her biological father.”
I sat up.
“Does Sabine know?”
“I don’t know.”
“Does anyone know?”
“My attorney. Yours. Me. You. Felix. Whoever at Silver Oak handled the case.”
“And maybe Ingrid.”
“Yes.”
I looked toward Felix’s empty side of the bed.
“When did he order the tests?”
“January.”
Before Elise knew she was pregnant.
That mattered.
The genetic secret had begun independently of the pregnancy.
“What happened in January?” I asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Think.”
“Nora, I wasn’t tracking his family calendar.”
“You were seeing him.”
Silence.
I regretted the sharpness immediately.
“Sorry.”
“No. You’re right.”
She thought.
“We saw each other twice that month.”
“Did he seem different?”
“He was distracted.”
“How?”
“He kept asking about family.”
“Yours?”
“His.”
I waited.
“He asked whether I thought parents owed adult children the truth about everything.”
My skin prickled.
“What did you say?”
“That people are allowed privacy.”
“And Felix?”
“He said some secrets affect other people.”
I got out of bed.
“Anything else?”
“He was angry with his mother.”
“Why?”
“He wouldn’t tell me.”
There.
The first sign.
“What did Ingrid do?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did he meet her?”
“Probably.”
“Probably?”
“He canceled on me one afternoon and said he had to deal with her.”
“What date?”
Elise searched her messages.
“January twenty-third.”
I wrote it down.
That date would become important before noon.
Evelyn had obtained records from our joint mobile account.
She was not interested in Felix’s message content.
Only call patterns.
On January twenty-third, Felix had called Ingrid eleven times.
Then no calls between them for four days.
On January twenty-seventh, Ingrid called him once.
The conversation lasted fifty-three minutes.
After that, their normal pattern resumed.
“Confrontation,” I said.
“Maybe.”
Evelyn circled the dates.
“He gets the test. Calls her repeatedly. Silence. Long call. Then normal communication.”
“She admitted it.”
“Possible.”
“And they made a deal.”
“Possible.”
“What deal?”
“We don’t know.”
I stared at the financial records spread across Evelyn’s conference table.
Fernbrook.
Helmut’s trust account.
Silver Oak.
There had to be movement after January twenty-seventh.
“Check the money.”
“We have.”
She pulled out another sheet.
On February second, Fernbrook Holdings received an additional seventy-five thousand dollars.
My breath stopped.
“From where?”
“Not you.”
“Helmut?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
“A personal account belonging to Ingrid.”
I stared.
“Her money?”
“Apparently.”
“Where did she get seventy-five thousand dollars?”
“That is not currently our concern.”
“It is if she paid Felix.”
“We don’t know that she did.”
“Fernbrook owns the condo he promised Elise.”
“Yes.”
“And Ingrid put seventy-five thousand into Fernbrook immediately after Felix learned Helmut wasn’t his father.”
“Yes.”
I leaned back.
“That’s the bargain.”
“It is evidence of a financial relationship.”
“She paid him to stay quiet.”
“Maybe.”
The word no longer irritated me.
It protected the truth from my anger.
I understood that now.
“What happened to the money?”
“Some remains in the company. Some covered mortgage and property expenses.”
“So Ingrid helped buy the condo.”
“Yes.”
“For Felix and Elise.”
“Possibly.”
I laughed once.
“Ingrid spent years acting like I was not good enough for her son, then financed an apartment for his mistress.”
Evelyn did not smile.
“There’s another transaction.”
Of course there was.
“Tell me.”
“Five thousand dollars from Fernbrook to a private investigator.”
My stomach tightened.
“When?”
“Three months ago.”
“Before Elise told Felix she was pregnant?”
“Roughly around the same period.”
“Who were they investigating?”
“We don’t know.”
I immediately thought of myself.
Then Elise.
Then Helmut.
Any of us could have been the target.
“Can you find out?”
“We’re trying.”
I gathered the documents.
“I need to see Ingrid.”
“No.”
The answer was immediate.
“I didn’t say confront.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“I can get her talking.”
“How?”
“In German.”
Evelyn removed her glasses.
“Nora.”
“She still doesn’t know.”
“And that is useful precisely because you have not exposed it.”
“I won’t.”
“What are you proposing?”
I had already begun forming the idea.
“Lunch.”
“With Ingrid?”
“Just us.”
“Why would she agree?”
“Because she thinks I’m worried about Felix.”
Evelyn stared at me.
“You are worried about Felix.”
“Not in the way she’ll assume.”
“No recording without confirming the applicable law and circumstances.”
“I know.”
“No accusations.”
“I know.”
“No revealing the genetic report.”
“I know.”
She sighed.
“I dislike this.”
“Is that legal advice?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“It is still advice.”
I called Ingrid from the parking lot.
She answered warmly.
“Nora, darling.”
I hated darling now.
“Do you have time for lunch tomorrow?”
A pause.
“With me?”
“Yes.”
“Is something wrong?”
Perfect.
“I’m not sure.”
Her voice softened immediately.
“Of course.”
We met at a small French restaurant Ingrid liked.
She arrived exactly on time wearing a camel coat and pearl earrings.
I had seen her in those earrings at our wedding.
For years I thought they made her look elegant.
Now they made her look armored.
We ordered soup.
I waited until the waiter left.
“Felix has been strange.”
Ingrid’s spoon stopped.
“How?”
“Distracted.”
“Work.”
“Maybe.”
I looked down.
“He’s asking about children again.”
There.
A tiny reaction.
“He is?”
“Adoption.”
Ingrid lowered her spoon.
“What did he say?”
“Just that maybe we should consider it.”
She smiled.
“That could be wonderful.”
“I don’t know.”
“Why not?”
“I’m afraid.”
Her expression became almost tender.
“Of what?”
“Being disappointed again.”
That part required no acting.
My voice changed despite me.
Ingrid reached across the table and touched my wrist.
“You have suffered enough.”
The sympathy nearly made me furious.
I reminded myself why I was there.
“Felix seems convinced something will happen soon.”
Her hand withdrew.
“Does he?”
“Yes.”
“Maybe he wants to give you hope.”
“Maybe.”
I stirred my soup.
“He’s also been talking about his childhood.”
Ingrid went still.
Only for a second.
“What about it?”
“Nothing important.”
Her gaze sharpened.
“Then why mention it?”
I shrugged.
“He asked whether parents should tell children every family secret.”
The change was immediate.
Her face remained composed.
Her fingers did not.
They tightened around the spoon.
“When?”
“A few nights ago.”
A lie.
“What did you say?”
“That families deserve privacy.”
Ingrid looked away.
“That is true.”
“Felix disagreed.”
“What did he say?”
“That secrets can hurt people.”
She took a sip of water.
I watched the pulse at her throat.
Then she switched to German.
Under her breath.
“He promised.”
Two words.
Quiet enough that she believed they belonged only to herself.
My heartbeat kicked.
I looked toward the window as though distracted by traffic.
Ingrid did not realize I had understood.
A minute later, she asked in English, “Has Felix said anything about Helmut?”
“No.”
Her relief was visible.
That answered one question.
Helmut did not know.
“What about Sabine?” I asked.
The water glass stopped halfway to her mouth.
“Why Sabine?”
“No reason. Felix mentioned everyone.”
Ingrid set down the glass.
“He has always been too sensitive.”
I smiled faintly.
“That’s one word for him.”
She laughed.
The conversation drifted.
I let it.
Ten minutes later, I excused myself to the restroom.
Inside the stall, I texted Evelyn.
Ingrid whispered in German: “He promised.” Asked specifically whether Felix mentioned Helmut. Strong indication Helmut does not know.
Evelyn replied.
DO NOT PUSH HARDER.
I did not.
When I returned, Ingrid had ordered coffee.
She looked calmer.
Perhaps she believed she had successfully measured the danger.
Then she made a mistake.
“Nora, whatever happens, you should remember Felix loves you.”
I looked at her.
“What do you mean?”
“Marriage has difficult seasons.”
“Is there something I should know?”
“No.”
She smiled.
“Of course not.”
I let several seconds pass.
“Does he love Elise?”
The coffee cup struck the saucer.
Not hard.
But enough.
Ingrid stared at me.
“Why would you ask that?”
“They seemed tense Sunday.”
“They dated years ago.”
“I know.”
“That is finished.”
“Is it?”
Her eyes narrowed.
I had gone too far.
I softened immediately.
“Sorry. I’m being ridiculous.”
“Yes,” she said, too quickly. “You are.”
I laughed at myself.
“I told you Felix has been strange.”
She relaxed slightly.
Then, in German, barely audible, she muttered, “That stupid girl has made everyone nervous.”
I looked down at my coffee.
Not Felix.
Not the affair.
Elise.
The pregnant woman refusing to cooperate.
We finished lunch.
Outside, Ingrid hugged me.
“Do not worry.”
Her perfume clung to my coat.
“Everything will settle.”
I watched her walk away.
She genuinely believed that.
That was what frightened me.
My phone rang before I reached my car.
Elise.
“Nora.”
Her breathing was fast.
“What happened?”
“My attorney found the investigator.”
“What investigator?”
“The one Fernbrook paid.”
I stopped beside my car.
“Who was he following?”
“Me.”
My stomach dropped.
“For how long?”
“Since January.”
Before the pregnancy.
Before Elise had become the problem.
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
Then she said something that made every hair on my arms rise.
“He wasn’t hired to watch whether I was seeing Felix.”
“What was he hired to find?”
“My family.”
I gripped the car door.
“What about them?”
“Specifically my father.”
I remembered Elise mentioning that her father had died.
“When did he die?”
“Seven years ago.”
“Why would Felix investigate a dead man?”
“I don’t know.”
“Name?”
“Thomas Morgan.”
I wrote it down.
“What did he do?”
“He was an architect.”
“Did he know the Webers?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Think harder.”
Silence.
Then Elise inhaled sharply.
“My father grew up in the same town as Ingrid.”
I stopped writing.
“How old would he be?”
“If he were alive? Seventy-one.”
Roughly Ingrid’s generation.
My heart began pounding.
“Elise.”
“What?”
“Did your father have any brothers?”
“One.”
“Living?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Arizona, I think.”
I stared across the parking lot.
Felix had discovered Helmut was not his biological father.
Then a company tied to Ingrid paid a private investigator to research Elise’s dead father.
Not Elise’s affair.
Not her pregnancy.
Her father.
The family secret was beginning to acquire a shape I did not want to name.
And if my suspicion was right, Felix’s affair with Elise had crossed a boundary far worse than adultery before either of them understood it.
Click here to continue reading: PART 11: The Investigator Was Looking Into Elise’s Dead Father, and the Photograph He Found Turned Felix’s Affair Into a Terrifying Family Question
My Husband Raised His Glass, Spoke in the Language He Thought Was Safe, and Changed Our Marriage Before Dessert Arrived
Part 10 of 35
