Chapter 2 - The Daughter His Brother Was Never Supposed to Have
“Tell me why my brother’s name is on a little girl’s birth certificate.”
Vincent DeMarco stood in the middle of his ruined wedding reception, holding the document Charlotte had just given him.
The last guests were leaving.
Broken champagne glasses still glittered beneath the white roses.
But Vincent barely noticed.
His younger brother, Luca DeMarco, was listed as the father of a girl named Lily.
Date of birth: September 14, 2018.
The mother’s name made Vincent's blood run cold.
Charlotte DeMarco.
His bride.
The woman he had married just hours earlier.
Vincent lifted his eyes.
“Explain.”
Charlotte's face had lost every trace of its carefully rehearsed smile.
“She isn't my daughter.”
“Your name is right here.”
“Because I put it there.”
Vincent stared at her.
“You falsified a child's birth certificate?”
Charlotte swallowed.
“I thought it was the only way to bring her home.”
Before Vincent could demand another answer, Anthony appeared at the courtyard entrance.
“We have a situation at Lakeside.”
Vincent turned immediately.
“Megan?”
“She’s safe for now. Hospital security intercepted a man trying to get her signature on a medical transfer authorization.”
“Who sent him?”
“He carried paperwork from St. Catherine’s.”
Vincent looked back at Charlotte.
Three days before the wedding, she had authorized that exact transfer.
“Get the car,” he told Anthony.
Charlotte reached for his arm.
“Vincent, please. If you go there without understanding what's happening—”
He pulled away.
“A pregnant woman is being threatened because of something you did. Whatever you're hiding can wait.”
“She isn't just your maid.”
Vincent stopped.
Charlotte's eyes filled with tears.
“That's what I've been trying to tell you.”
But he was already walking away.
At Lakeside Memorial, Megan sat upright in her hospital bed, both hands resting protectively over her stomach.
A heart monitor beeped beside her.
Her face was pale.
When Vincent entered, she tried to stand.
“Don't,” he said gently. “Please.”
She sank back against the pillows.
“I'm sorry about the wedding.”
Vincent pulled a chair beside her bed.
“You have nothing to apologize for.”
“The glasses—”
“Forget the glasses.”
Her eyes filled.
“Charlotte won't.”
For the first time that evening, Vincent understood how thoroughly his household had failed this woman.
He had employed Megan for nearly a year.
He knew she was widowed.
He knew she was expecting a child.
Yet he hadn't realized she was afraid of losing her home every time Charlotte spoke.
“Your apartment is secure,” he told her. “Whether you work another day or not.”
Megan looked uncertain.
“Why would you do that?”
“Because you should never have been threatened with homelessness for needing medical care.”
Her expression changed slightly.
Then she glanced toward the door.
“That man said the hospital had already agreed to transfer me. He wanted me to sign before the ambulance arrived.”
“Did you recognize him?”
“No. But he knew about my baby.”
Vincent waited.
Megan looked down.
“My husband, Daniel, had cancer. Before he died, we had embryos frozen because the treatment might leave us unable to have children.”
She pressed a hand against her stomach.
“He knew he wasn't getting better. He left instructions so I could have our baby after he was gone.”
Her voice broke.
“I had the embryo transferred a few weeks after his funeral.”
Vincent lowered his head.
Eight months without her husband.
Seven months carrying the child they had desperately wanted.
And Charlotte had made her work nine hours at a wedding.
Megan wiped her eyes.
“That man knew about the embryos. He said Daniel's permission wasn't enough anymore.”
“That's a lie,” Vincent said.
“He told me they could question whether I had the right to keep my baby.”
Vincent's jaw tightened.
He had faced dangerous men across negotiation tables.
He had never felt quite this kind of anger.
Not because Megan was weak.
Because someone had found the one thing she couldn't bear to lose and used it against her.
A gentle knock came from the open doorway.
Dr. Evelyn Mercer, Megan's attending physician, entered with a chart.
“Mrs. Parker is stable,” she said. “The contractions have slowed. But she needs rest, careful monitoring, and absolutely no more unnecessary stress.”
Vincent nodded.
“No one transfers her without her physician's approval and her informed consent.”
“That's already been made clear,” Dr. Mercer replied.
She looked at Megan.
“And your husband's reproductive consent paperwork is on file. There's no reason for you to be frightened by what that visitor said.”
Megan finally released a shaky breath.
But when the doctor left, she caught Vincent's sleeve.
“There is something else.”
He leaned closer.
“The photograph in Charlotte's folder. The little blonde girl.”
“What about her?”
“She was wearing a gold bracelet. It had a tiny rose engraved beside the family crest.”
Megan hesitated.
“My mother owned a bracelet exactly like that.”
Vincent felt a quiet chill.
“Where is your mother now?”
“She died four years ago.”
“What was her name?”
“Rose.”
Megan watched his expression.
“Rose Parker.”
Vincent went completely still.
He knew that name.
Not well.
But enough.
Years earlier, his father had paid for a small house outside New Orleans.
The property paperwork had mentioned a woman named Rose Parker.
When Vincent questioned the purchase, his father had dismissed it as repayment for an old debt.
Vincent had believed him.
Now he wasn't so sure.
Anthony approached the hospital room carrying a sealed evidence bag.
Inside was the document the intruder had tried to make Megan sign.
Vincent examined it.
It was labeled Voluntary Maternal Transfer and Temporary Infant Care Authorization.
The document gave St. Catherine’s authority to make decisions regarding the baby if Megan became medically incapacitated.
And at the bottom was a signature.
Megan Parker.
Megan stared at it.
“I didn't sign that.”
Anthony nodded.
“We've preserved the original and notified hospital security and the police.”
Vincent turned another page.
There was a witness signature.
Thomas Sullivan, M.D.
Beside it, a date.
Three days before the wedding.
Megan whispered, “I was working at the estate that day.”
Vincent looked at Anthony.
“Find out how they obtained her signature.”
“I've already requested the archive footage.”
“And Luca?”
Anthony hesitated.
“Your brother is on his way here.”
Vincent's expression hardened.
“Good.”
Twenty minutes later, Luca entered the waiting room.
At thirty-eight, he resembled Vincent around the eyes, though his manner was quieter.
He wore a navy jacket and carried their father's old silver pocket watch.
Vincent stood.
“Tell me about Lily.”
Luca stopped walking.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then he looked at Charlotte, who had followed Vincent to the hospital.
“You showed him?”
Charlotte nodded.
Luca closed his eyes.
Vincent placed the birth certificate on the table.
“It says you have an eight-year-old daughter with my wife.”
“That's not true.”
“Then explain it.”
Luca picked up the document.
His hands trembled.
“Lily was Audrey's child.”
Vincent frowned.
“Audrey Winslow?”
Charlotte's younger sister.
The quiet young woman who had died eight years ago following complications during childbirth.
Luca nodded.
“Audrey and I were together before you met Charlotte.”
Vincent stared at him.
“You never told me.”
“We were going to tell everyone after the baby came.”
Luca's voice became unsteady.
“But Audrey died. And they told me our daughter died with her.”
Charlotte covered her mouth.
Luca looked at the certificate again.
“Last year, Charlotte came to me with proof Lily had survived.”
Vincent turned toward his bride.
“Survived?”
Charlotte whispered, “She's alive.”
“Where?”
Neither answered immediately.
Vincent felt his patience disappearing.
“Where is the child?”
Luca took a small photograph from his jacket.
A blonde girl sat on a wooden bench beneath an oak tree.
She wore a pale blue dress.
Around her wrist was a gold bracelet bearing the DeMarco crest.
On the back, someone had written:
Lily. Seven years old. St. Catherine’s.
Vincent looked from the photograph to his brother.
“You've known for a year?”
Luca shook his head.
“I've known for six months. And every time I tried to see her, Sullivan moved her somewhere else.”
Charlotte began crying.
“He promised me that if I married you, Lily could finally come home.”
Vincent felt the room tilt beneath him.
His marriage.
Megan's transfer.
His father's archive.
A little girl who had been declared dead.
All of it was connected.
Luca gripped Vincent's arm.
“Brother, there's something else.”
Vincent looked at him.
Luca pointed toward Megan's hospital room.
“That woman isn't involved by accident.”
“Then why is she involved?”
Luca's eyes filled with something Vincent had never seen in them before.
Fear.
“Because Sullivan doesn't just want Lily.”
He opened their father's silver pocket watch.
Tucked inside the back cover was a tiny, faded photograph of a young woman holding a blonde toddler.
Vincent recognized the young woman immediately.
Rose Parker.
Luca's voice dropped.
“Father gave me this the night he died.”
He pointed at the child in Rose's arms.
“Vincent, I think that little girl grew up to become Megan.”
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And beneath the photograph, engraved into the silver, were four words:
PROTECT MY DAUGHTER, MEGAN.
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