Chapter 6: What Serena Said When She Had Nothing Left
Serena called Gabriel at ten that morning.
I was in the kitchen with the boys when I heard his voice change in the living room — not louder, but harder, the way stone is harder than wood.
I sent the boys to their room with Biscuit and stood in the doorway.
"You should have told me," Gabriel said into the phone.
I could not hear her side.
But I could read his face.
"No." A pause.
"No, Serena.
That's not—" He stopped.
Listened.
His jaw tightened.
"Say that again."
Whatever she said, he looked at me.
"I'll call you back," he said, and ended the call.
"What?" I asked.
"She says she can prove the boys aren't mine."
The room went very quiet.
"She's lying," I said.
"I know." He set the phone on the coffee table.
"She says she has a document.
A medical record from your doctor dated the same week as your divorce.
She says it proves a different timeline."
"That's not possible."
"It's fabricated.
Which means Reiss had five years to build a backup story." He looked at me steadily.
"We need a DNA test.
Today.
Voluntary, documented, done through my legal team so it cannot be challenged or tampered with."
"I know they're yours, Gabriel."
"So do I.
But knowing isn't the same as proving, and Reiss understands that better than anyone." He picked up his phone again.
"I'm going to call her back.
I want you to listen."
"You want her to think I'm not here."
"I want her to say everything she's willing to say when she thinks she has the advantage." He looked at me.
"Is that all right?"
I nodded.
He put the call on speaker and set the phone between us.
Serena answered on the second ring.
"Have you thought about what I said?"
"I have," Gabriel said.
"Tell me about the document."
"It's a consultation record.
Claire visited a fertility specialist four months before your divorce.
The dates don't match a natural conception during your marriage."
"Where did you get it?"
"Does it matter?"
"It matters a great deal.
A fabricated medical record is a federal offense."
A pause.
When she spoke again, her voice had shifted — still controlled, but tighter.
"I'm trying to help you, Gabriel.
This woman disappeared for five years and came back with three children and a story.
You deserve to know the truth before you make any decisions."
"The truth." He said it without inflection.
"All right.
Here's what I know.
I know you were introduced to me through a contact of Dario Reiss's nine years ago.
I know your legal name is Sara Valenkov.
I know Petra Hale, my former assistant, was on Reiss's payroll while she had access to Claire's insurance records.
And I know that the document you're describing does not exist, because I've already spoken to Claire's physician this morning."
Silence.
"You should have left the boys out of it," Gabriel said.
"Everything else — the business, the access, whatever Reiss needed from me — I might have handled differently.
But you brought a man to a charity gala and pointed him at my sons.
That I will not handle quietly."
"Gabriel." Her voice had changed entirely.
The smoothness was gone.
"You don't understand what Reiss will do if you move against him."
"I have a reasonable idea."
"He doesn't make threats.
He makes examples.
You know what his operation looks like when someone crosses him — you've seen the files.
If you go to your federal contacts—"
"I sent the files last night."
Another silence.
Longer this time.
"Then you've made a very serious mistake," she said.
And the smoothness was back, but underneath it now was something different.
Something that sounded almost like fear wearing a professional mask.
"He has people inside your freight operation.
Three of your regional managers.
He has eighteen months of your shipping manifests.
He can make it look like Cross Freight has been moving his product for years."
Gabriel's hand was flat on the table.
He did not move it.
"He can try," Gabriel said.
"My legal team has been auditing those manifests for six weeks.
We found the anomalies.
We documented them.
We reported them." He paused.
"Reiss planted evidence in my company.
We found it before he could use it.
That's not a threat anymore, Serena.
That's a confession."
The line went quiet for so long I thought she had ended the call.
Then: "I didn't know about the boys.
Not at first.
I want you to know that."
"When did you find out?"
"Two years in.
Petra told me." A breath.
"I told Reiss it was irrelevant.
I told him to leave it alone."
"But he didn't."
"No."
"And you stayed."
She didn't answer.
"You stayed," Gabriel said again.
Quietly.
Not as an accusation.
As a verdict.
The call ended.
Gabriel picked up his phone and set it face-down.
I looked at him.
"She knew for three years."
"Yes."
"And she said nothing."
"No." He was quiet for a moment.
"She's not the villain in this, Claire.
She's not innocent either.
But Reiss built the structure.
She just lived inside it."
"That's generous."
"It's accurate." He stood.
"The DNA test.
Can I take the boys this morning?
My doctor will come to us — they won't need to go anywhere uncomfortable."
I looked toward the hallway.
I could hear Noah explaining something to Biscuit in a very serious voice.
"Yes," I said.
"But I'm there the whole time."
"I wouldn't have it any other way."
He went to the hallway.
Knocked on the boys' door.
"Hey.
Can I come in?"
Marcus opened it immediately, like he'd been waiting.
"Are you staying for breakfast?"
"I think so," Gabriel said.
"If that's all right."
Marcus looked back at his brothers.
Some wordless agreement passed between them the way it always did — that triplet frequency I had never fully decoded.
"Biscuit has to like you first," Noah said from the floor.
"Those are the rules."
Gabriel crouched down.
Biscuit approached, sniffed his hand for a long moment, and then sat down directly on Gabriel's shoe.
"I think that's a yes," Eli said.
May you like
It was the first time I had seen Gabriel Cross smile in five years.
It looked exactly the same as I remembered.
