Chapter 3 - THE MAN THEY ERASED
Robert refused to speak over the phone.
“Come tomorrow morning.”
“Why not tonight?”
“Because Vivian will know soon enough.”
“You’re afraid of her?”
Robert laughed softly.
“No.”
Then his voice hardened.
“I’m afraid of what she’ll do when she realizes she can’t control the story anymore.”
The next morning I drove to his house.
Emmie stayed with my sister, Natalie.
Robert lived in a modest brick home surrounded by enormous oak trees.
When he opened the door, I immediately understood why Vivian had erased him.
Robert looked like Ethan.
Not vaguely.
Not a little.
Like an older version.
Same eyes.
Same jaw.
Same crooked line above the left eyebrow.
I stopped breathing.
Robert saw my reaction.
“So.”
He stepped aside.
“You already know.”
“I know George wasn’t Ethan’s biological father.”
Robert closed the door.
“That took almost forty years.”
“Are you Ethan’s father?”
He didn’t answer.
Instead, he walked toward a cabinet and removed a wooden box.
Inside were photographs.
Vivian at twenty-three.
George at twenty-five.
Robert standing between them.
All three smiling.
In another photograph, Vivian leaned against Robert’s motorcycle.
His arm was around her waist.
“What was this?”
Robert sat down.
“The truth.”
I remained standing.
“You and Vivian were together?”
“Four years.”
“Before George?”
“And during.”
I stared at him.
Robert looked exhausted.
“George was my younger brother. Good man. Better than me in some ways. He wanted stability. Marriage. Kids. I wanted to leave town.”
“And Vivian?”
“Wanted whichever brother could give her the life she wanted.”
He opened another envelope.
A letter.
Vivian’s handwriting covered the page.
I read the first sentence.
Robert, the baby is yours.
My stomach tightened.
“You knew?”
“Yes.”
“Then why did George raise Ethan?”
Robert’s face changed.
“Because Vivian told George I was dangerous.”
“Were you?”
“I drank too much. Got into fights. I wasn’t ready to be a father.”
He rubbed his hands together.
“But I wasn’t what she claimed.”
“What did she claim?”
“That I threatened her.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Why would George believe her?”
“Because she showed him a police report.”
I stared at him.
“What police report?”
“A false one.”
Robert leaned closer.
“Your mother-in-law had connections even then. Her father was a county commissioner.”
I suddenly remembered how Vivian spoke about loyalty.
Blood.
Reputation.
The Mercer name.
All of it built on a lie.
“Why didn’t you fight?”
“I did.”
He pointed toward another stack of papers.
Letters returned unopened.
Court petitions dismissed.
One restraining order.
“I spent two years trying to see Ethan.”
“What happened?”
“George came to me.”
His eyes lowered.
“He begged me to stop.”
“Why?”
“Because by then he loved the boy.”
My anger softened for one second.
Robert continued.
“He told me Ethan called him Daddy. He said if I dragged everyone through court, Vivian would destroy us both.”
“So you disappeared.”
“I stepped away.”
“You abandoned your son.”
His eyes flashed.
“Yes.”
At least he didn’t excuse it.
“I have regretted that every day.”
I closed the box.
“Why were you at George’s funeral?”
“To say goodbye to my brother.”
“And Vivian saw you.”
“Yes.”
“She looked terrified.”
“She had reason to be.”
Robert stood.
“Because three months before George died, he called me.”
My stomach tightened.
“What did he say?”
“He found out.”
“About Ethan?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“George had heart disease. Doctors recommended family screening. Ethan’s bloodwork raised questions. George quietly ordered genetic testing.”
I sat down.
“So George knew before he died.”
Robert nodded.
“And he was angry?”
“No.”
That surprised me.
“He said biology didn’t erase thirty-eight years.”
Robert swallowed.
“But he wanted Ethan to know.”
“What stopped him?”
“Vivian.”
Of course.
“What did she do?”
“I don’t know.”
He looked toward the window.
“George died three weeks later.”
I felt cold.
“His death was a heart attack.”
“So they said.”
“Robert…”
“I’m not accusing her of murder.”
“Then what are you saying?”
“I’m saying George had prepared a letter for Ethan.”
“Where is it?”
“Gone.”
“Vivian?”
“I believe so.”
I stood quickly.
“Why haven’t you told Ethan?”
Robert looked me directly in the eyes.
“Because George left something else.”
He walked to a safe.
Inside was a small flash drive.
“This arrived by mail two days after his funeral.”
“From George?”
“Yes.”
“What’s on it?”
“I never opened it.”
I stared at him.
“Why?”
“Because the envelope said one thing.”
He handed it to me.
Written across the front were six words.
FOR ETHAN, WHEN VIVIAN GOES TOO FAR.
My heartbeat thudded.
May you like
Robert looked at me.
“I think chaining your daughter to a porch qualifies.”
