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Ethan’s heavy sigh comes through the phone. “Stella, I can help you find the facts you want.”
“You mean whether or not Ryan did it?”
He clarifies. “No, no one can tell you that except Ryan himself. And if you can’t trust him, then you might go ahead and accuse him. What I can tell you is if he’s really Harriet’s father or not.”
Bonnie who has seen photos of Harriet, protests. “Ethan, the girl is a split copy of Ryan. I didn’t clock the resemblance before, but now I see it.”
Ethan’s voice grows hard. “That is still debatable. DNA doesn’t lie.”
“Can we do that?” I ask, barely daring to hope, feeling as though my entire future hangs in the balance of this conversation.
Ethan states. “Not without his knowledge.”
Bonnie huffs, her patience clearly wearing thin. “And here I thought I was your priority! Fine, I’ll handle it myself. Stella, send me Harriet’s foster parents’ address—”
“Siobhan!” Ethan cuts in sharply, using Bonnie’s full name—undoubtedly a sign that he’s serious.
“Harvard,” Bonnie shoots back, “You can either get involved or get out of the way, either way, I’m helping Stella. You know how I feel about what happened to Vivian.” I hear another groan from Bonnie and my throat tightens. I’m so touched by her loyalty, even at the cost of clashing with Ethan.
There’s a tense silence.
“Damn it,” Ethan swears, and then his tone shifts, becoming cold and detached. “Stella, take some of your husband’s hair from his brush and put it in a sealed envelope. Someone will contact you shortly to collect, alright?”
“Thanks, Harvard,” Bonnie says, relief evident in her voice.
“Any fucking time, Siobhan,” Ethan replies with a sigh of resignation.
My heart begins to pound for a whole new reason. Okay. This all feels so covert and strange, but for Bonnie and Ethan on the other end of the line, it seems like just another day.
For the umpteenth time, I find myself wondering if there isn’t more to these two than meets the eye. They’re more than cybersecurity experts. More than being husband and wife. They’re partners in... something. It’s like they’re part of a secret society.
Bonnie’s voice interrupts my spiraling thoughts. “Are you going to be okay, Stella? Should I ask Brooke to come see you in Seattle?”
“Um, no, no. I’ll be fine. You need them more than I do right now. I just... I need to get out of this house.”
Ethan tries again, “Stella, I still really think you should hear him out.”
I counter, “It’s better this way, trust me.”
“But can you live with yourself if you don’t give the man you love the benefit of the doubt?”
“The same way I’ve lived with myself after not believing my sister when she first told me about the assault? Yes, Ethan, I think I can.”
“Okay, well get those samples, and someone will call you soon.”
“Guys, I can’t thank you enough. And Bonnie...”
“I’ll be fine, I promise.”
As soon as we disconnect, my decision weighs heavily on me, but it’s too late to back out now. There is no other way to play this. I had a choice between taking Viv’s word against the word of other people; I betrayed her and chose other people. I won’t make that mistake twice.
Suppressing a shiver of revulsion, I force myself back into our bathroom to pluck some strands of hair from Ryan’s brush. It is a betrayal, a violation of the trust and intimacy we’ve shared, but the need for truth drives me on.
Fifteen minutes later, my phone rings, displaying an unknown number. The voice on the other end says he’s here with pizza. I’m about to dismiss him when realization dawns on me who it might be.
I swing the door open to find a young delivery boy, no older than twenty, with a bright smile.
“Hi! Are you Stella?”
