Chapter 52 #52
Chapter 52
~Dwayne~
I stared at my phone screen for the hundredth time that day, reading the same cryptic message over and over.
"Tsk, tsk. Is she a mother or a murderer?"
What the hell did that mean? Which mother? Which murderer?
The words had been haunting me for days now, circling in my mind like vultures waiting for something to die. I'd forwarded the message to Marcus, my private investigator, along with the number that had been calling Shailyn.
But so far, nothing. Radio silence.
I set the phone down and rubbed my temples, feeling the familiar tension building behind my eyes. The project deadline was looming, less than two weeks now, and here I was obsessing over cryptic messages and mysterious phone calls.
My office door opened without warning.
"We need to talk," Dante said, walking in like he owned the place.
"Ever heard of knocking?" I asked, not bothering to hide my irritation.
"Ever heard of family privacy?" he shot back, crossing his arms.
I leaned back in my chair. "What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about you spending time alone with my wife," Dante said, his voice sharp. "I heard you two were in the gym together. Late at night."
"She couldn't sleep," I said calmly. "Neither could I. We talked. That's all."
"That's all?" Dante's laugh was bitter. "You think I'm stupid, Dwayne? I see the way you look at her."
"And how do I look at her?"
"Like you want her," Dante said flatly.
I stood up slowly, my hands clenching into fists. "This isn't about Shailyn."
"Then what is it about?"
"It's about you being a controlling bastard who can't stand the thought of anyone else having a relationship with his wife, even a friendly one."
Dante's jaw tightened. "I'm protecting what's mine."
"She's not property, Dante. She's a person."
"A person who happens to be my wife," he shot back. "Carrying my child. Building a life with me."
"Are you sure about that?" The words slipped out before I could stop them.
Dante went very still. "What did you say?"
"Nothing," I said quickly. "Forget it."
"No, say it again," Dante demanded, moving closer. "Are you implying something about my wife? About my child?"
"I'm not implying anything," I said, though my heart was racing. "I'm just saying maybe you should spend less time worrying about who talks to Shailyn and more time actually being a good husband."
"You don't know anything about my marriage."
"I know you manipulate her," I said, the words coming faster now. "I know you use her amnesia to rewrite history. I know…”
"You know nothing!" Dante shouted, slamming his hand on my desk. "You weren't here for years! You left! You abandoned this family, this company, everything! And now you think you can come back and judge me?"
"Why I left is none of your concern.” I said quietly.
"So instead you ran away to Asia like a coward."
"Better a coward than a monster.” I shot back.
Dante's face went red. "You're calling me a monster?"
"If the shoe fits."
"You self-righteous prick," Dante snarled. "You think you're so much better than me? So much more moral?
"Get out of my office," I said coldly.
"This isn't over," Dante said, pointing at me. "Not by a long shot."
He stormed out, slamming the door hard enough to rattle the frame.
I sank back into my chair, my hands shaking slightly. That had been too close. Too close to revealing things that needed to stay hidden.
My phone buzzed.
Marcus.
I grabbed it immediately. "Tell me you have something."
"I'm still working on the number that called Mrs. Belmar," Luke said. "It's a burner phone, probably disposed of by now. And I did not find anything. The message was sent in clean, perfect and no traces."
"What?"
“I'll keep digging but this will be a tough one.” Luke said.
Just then, the receptionist entered and gave me an envelope. She mentioned that someone came to drop a file and specifically mentioned it's for me.
“Thank you.” I said to her
I started reading the documents. It was well detailed and was backed up with few facts. It read,
"There was an incident. Twenty-nine years ago. A woman named Jesse Morrison died under suspicious circumstances even though the hospital said she died with birth complications but she had given birth two days earlier.”
My blood ran cold. "Who was Jesse Morrison?" I asked myself out loud
"Jesse Morrison worked for Belmar Industries. Secretary to Tyler Belmar. And rumor has it, she was also his mistress. She was Tyler Belmar’s favorite.”
"Jesus Christ," did mum find out? I breathed.
"The death was ruled by child complication," I continued reading. "But there were whispers. Questions that were never fully answered."
"What kind of questions?"
"About who was with her that night. About whether the death was just natural. About why your mother, Mrs. Cynthia Belmar was the last person seen with her. And why the case was closed down."
My mother. The message was about my mother.
At the end of the document. It was boldly written again.
“Is she a mother or a murderer?”
The question was settling in my mind.
Could it be that the woman was impregnated by my father?
Wait, did she give birth? Where's the child?
The weirdness of this revelation overwhelmed me.
I called Luke and told him all I just read and even sent a picture of the document. He told me he was going to do more digging.
He hung up, leaving me alone with this new nightmare.
My phone buzzed again. Another message from an unknown number.
I opened it, my stomach knotting with dread.
It was a photo. A document. The header read: "DNA Analysis Report."
Two names were listed.
Subject A: Cynthia Belmar
Subject B: Dwayne Belmar
My hands started shaking as I tried to scroll down to see the results.
But the image cut off right before the conclusion section.
A DNA test. Between me and my mother.
Why? What would that prove? She was my mother. Of course the DNA would match.
Unless...
Unless she wasn't.