Chapter 9 - The Truth About Northstar
“Daniel, James Callahan was never your biological father either!”
Mom’s voice came through the front door.
I didn’t open it.
Claire bent forward in my arms, breathing through another contraction.
Nothing else mattered.
Not James.
Not Victor.
Not Northstar.
Not my father.
Not the mansion.
“My wife is in labor!” I shouted.
The pounding stopped.
“What?”
“Call an ambulance!”
Mom’s voice changed instantly.
“Oh my God.”
I already had my phone in my hand.
Seven months pregnant.
Water broken.
Contractions.
The dispatcher told me to keep Claire seated and calm.
I knelt in front of her.
“Look at me.”
“I’m looking.”
“We’re going to the hospital.”
“I know.”
“The baby is going to be okay.”
“You don’t know that.”
“No.”
I squeezed her hands.
“But I’m staying with you.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“That one I believe.”
Sirens came less than six minutes later.
It felt like an hour.
When I finally opened the door, Mom stood outside beside two officers.
She looked terrified.
I barely acknowledged her.
Paramedics moved past me.
Questions.
Blood pressure.
Gestational age.
Contraction timing.
Claire was placed on a stretcher.
Mom stepped toward her.
“Claire, I’m so sorry.”
Claire looked at her.
For one second, I thought she might answer.
Then another contraction hit.
She closed her eyes.
I walked beside the stretcher.
Mom grabbed my arm.
“Daniel.”
“Not now.”
“You need to know.”
“My daughter needs me.”
“This is about you.”
“That’s exactly why it can wait.”
She released me.
For once, she didn’t argue.
I climbed into the ambulance.
The doors closed.
And for the next twenty minutes, my family’s thirty-year nightmare stayed outside.
At the hospital, everything moved fast.
Doctors.
Nurses.
Monitors.
Medication.
An ultrasound.
I stood beside Claire while a doctor studied the screen.
Finally, she turned toward us.
“The baby’s heartbeat is strong.”
Claire started crying.
I nearly did too.
“But?”
I asked.
The doctor nodded.
“But your membranes have ruptured early. Our priority is delaying delivery if we safely can.”
“How long?”
“We take it hour by hour.”
Claire gripped my hand.
“Is she in danger?”
“There are risks with premature delivery, but right now your baby is stable.”
Right now.
Two words I suddenly loved and hated.
They admitted Claire.
Medication began.
A fetal monitor filled the room with our daughter’s heartbeat.
Fast.
Steady.
Alive.
I sat beside Claire.
She looked exhausted.
“You should call your mom.”
“No.”
“Daniel.”
“No.”
She managed a weak smile.
“You’re stubborn.”
“I learned from my entire family.”
That actually made her laugh.
Then she winced.
I immediately stood.
“What?”
“I’m okay.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
She pulled me back down.
“Call her.”
“Why?”
“Because if she knows something that could help find your dad, you need to hear it.”
“I’m not leaving you.”
“You have a phone.”
I stared at her.
“You really want to discuss my mysterious parentage while you’re trying not to give birth?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“But I also don’t want Victor Hale appearing in the maternity ward.”
Fair.
I called Mom.
She answered immediately.
“Claire?”
“Stable.”
Mom exhaled.
“And the baby?”
“Stable.”
“Thank God.”
Then silence.
I said, “You have five minutes.”
“Daniel—”
“Start with Northstar.”
Mom took a breath.
“Northstar was the name of a fertility project.”
“Michael found that.”
“It was Victor’s project.”
“Why?”
“He wanted a legitimate medical investment.”
“Victor didn’t do legitimate.”
“That was the point. He needed businesses that looked clean.”
“And Dad?”
“Robert helped finance it.”
“Thomas?”
“Moved money.”
“James?”
“Was investigating it.”
I looked at Claire.
So far, nothing new.
“What does this have to do with me?”
Mom went silent.
“Mom.”
“I couldn’t get pregnant.”
I stopped.
“What?”
“Robert and I tried for almost three years.”
“But you said you were with Victor and Thomas before Dad.”
“I was.”
“And you thought one of them might be my father.”
“That was the lie.”
I closed my eyes.
“Whose lie?”
“Mine.”
Claire looked at me.
Mom continued.
“When you were nineteen and Victor started asking questions, I panicked. I told Robert there was a possibility Victor was your father.”
“But there wasn’t.”
“No.”
“Thomas?”
“No.”
“James?”
“No.”
I felt anger rising again.
“Then why did James call me his child?”
“Because he believed you were.”
That silenced me.
“He didn’t know?”
“No.”
“Know what?”
Mom started crying.
“That I was already pregnant before James and I became involved.”
My stomach tightened.
“By who?”
“No one.”
I stared at the phone.
“What?”
“No man.”
“Mom, stop.”
“I’m not lying.”
“You just admitted you lied for decades.”
“I know.”
“So explain it.”
“I was Northstar’s first successful pregnancy.”
The fetal monitor beside Claire continued its steady rhythm.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
I could hear my own pulse between them.
“What does that mean?”
“IVF.”
I didn’t speak.
Mom continued.
“Experimental at the time. Private. Very expensive.”
“Whose embryo?”
“Mine.”
“And whose sperm?”
“I don’t know.”
I stood.
Claire watched me carefully.
“You don’t know who my biological father is?”
“No.”
“Then James—”
“James met me after the procedure.”
“He thought you conceived naturally?”
“I told him I had.”
“Why?”
“Because I was ashamed.”
“Of fertility treatment?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“Of how I got access to it.”
I waited.
“Victor.”
Of course.
“He arranged it?”
“Yes.”
“Did he know you were doing IVF?”
“He paid for it.”
“But he wasn’t the donor.”
“I was told he wasn’t.”
“By who?”
“The doctor.”
“Name.”
“Dr. Leonard Voss.”
Michael had mentioned patient files.
“Is he alive?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why would Victor pay for you to have another man’s child?”
“He didn’t think of it that way.”
“What way did he think of it?”
Mom’s voice dropped.
“As an experiment.”
Cold moved through me.
“What kind of experiment?”
“Daniel, Northstar wasn’t a normal fertility clinic.”
“What did they do?”
“I don’t know everything.”
I almost ended the call.
She rushed on.
“They were testing embryo selection techniques. Genetic screening. Fertility protocols. Things that weren’t widely available then.”
“And you volunteered?”
“I wanted a baby.”
The simplicity of that answer somehow made everything worse.
“Did Dad know?”
“Not at first.”
“James?”
“No.”
“Thomas?”
“No.”
“Who did?”
“Victor. Voss. A few people at the clinic.”
“Then how did Dad end up listed as a Northstar patient?”
“Because after you were born, Robert went looking for answers.”
“What answers?”
“Who the donor was.”
“And?”
“He found out.”
My heart began pounding.
“You said you don’t know.”
“I don’t.”
“But Dad did.”
“I think so.”
“Why didn’t he tell you?”
“Because he said the donor’s identity could get us killed.”
I sat again.
Claire whispered, “Victor?”
I asked.
“Was the donor connected to Victor?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
“Was James investigating Northstar because of me?”
“Partly.”
There it was.
The reason James died.
Maybe.
“He discovered Victor wasn’t only laundering money through the clinic.”
“What else?”
“He believed patient records had been falsified.”
“Why?”
“Donors weren’t always who patients were told they were.”
I felt sick.
“That’s criminal.”
“Yes.”
“And James found evidence?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Northstar.”
“The person?”
“No.”
“The project.”
“But Dad told Victor Northstar was a person. His son.”
Mom went silent.
“Why?”
“Because Robert changed the meaning.”
“To me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“After James died, Robert started calling you Northstar.”
My throat tightened.
“Why?”
“Because James died trying to protect the truth about your birth.”
For all Dad’s failures, that hit me.
Robert Mercer wasn’t my biological father.
But maybe that had never mattered to him.
“What happened to James?”
Mom cried quietly.
“I made a mistake.”
“What mistake?”
“Victor contacted me.”
“When?”
“Two days before James died.”
“What did he want?”
“To meet.”
“And you went.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“He promised he would leave us alone if I told him what James knew.”
Claire closed her eyes.
“You told him.”
“I thought I could protect James.”
“You told Victor what James knew.”
“Yes.”
My voice went flat.
“What did you tell him?”
“That James had copied records from Northstar.”
“And?”
“That he was meeting someone.”
“Who?”
“Robert.”
The photograph.
The last meeting.
I understood.
“You gave Victor the location.”
Mom sobbed.
“I didn’t know he would kill him.”
There it was.
Not murder.
But guilt.
Thirty-three years of it.
“Is that why Dad said your name?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know?”
“Because Robert knows I caused it.”
“Where are you now?”
Silence.
“Mom?”
“I’m near the hospital.”
I stood.
“What?”
“I followed the ambulance.”
“Don’t come inside.”
“I won’t.”
“Police are looking for you.”
“I know.”
“Then surrender to them.”
“I will.”
“But?”
“One thing first.”
“What?”
“I found Melissa.”
My heart stopped.
“Where?”
“She’s safe.”
“You said she ran.”
“She did.”
“And?”
“She called me.”
“Where is she now?”
“With me.”
“Put her on.”
A rustling sound.
Then Melissa.
“Daniel?”
“Are you okay?”
“Yes.”
“Where’s Thomas?”
“Gone.”
“Did he hurt you?”
“No.”
“Did Mom?”
“No.”
“Do you have the DNA files?”
“Yes.”
“Bring them to the police.”
“Daniel, there’s something inside them.”
“What?”
“Not a DNA result.”
“What then?”
“A name.”
I closed my eyes.
“Whose?”
“The donor.”
Mom interrupted.
“Melissa, no.”
I stood.
“Tell me.”
“Daniel—”
“Tell me the name.”
Melissa lowered her voice.
“Dr. Leonard Voss.”
I froze.
“The doctor was the donor?”
“That’s what the record says.”
Mom whispered, “That’s impossible.”
“Why?”
“Because Voss told me he couldn’t have children.”
I looked at Claire.
Another lie.
“Melissa, photograph the document and send it.”
“I already did.”
My phone buzzed.
Image.
Old laboratory form.
Patient:
Evelyn Mercer.
Donor:
L. Voss.
I zoomed in.
But beneath the donor line was another code.
N-01.
“Mom, what is N-01?”
“I don’t know.”
Michael called at that exact moment.
I put Mom on hold.
“What?”
His voice was tense.
“I found Leonard Voss.”
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“That’s the problem.”
“What problem?”
“He’s not a retired fertility doctor.”
“What is he?”
“Federal witness protection.”
I stood completely still.
“Why?”
“Because he testified against Victor Hale thirty-one years ago.”
The timeline hit me.
Two years after I was born.
“Can we contact him?”
“I’m trying.”
“Michael, the records say Voss is my biological father.”
Silence.
Then:
“No.”
“What?”
“That can’t be right.”
“Why?”
“Because Voss’s federal medical file says he was sterile.”
Exactly what Mom said.
“Then the record is fake.”
“Or L. Voss doesn’t mean Leonard.”
I stared at the image.
“What are you saying?”
“Did he have relatives?”
“I don’t know.”
“I’m checking.”
Claire shifted in bed.
I immediately turned.
“You okay?”
She nodded.
Then another contraction hit.
The monitor changed.
A nurse entered quickly.
“Mr. Mercer, I need you to move back.”
“What happened?”
“We’re checking.”
Two more nurses entered.
Claire grabbed my hand.
The baby’s heartbeat slowed.
For ten terrifying seconds, everything else vanished again.
Then it recovered.
The doctor came in.
“We may not be able to delay delivery as long as we hoped.”
“How long?”
“I can’t promise.”
Claire looked frightened.
I leaned down and kissed her forehead.
“I’m here.”
My phone buzzed repeatedly in my pocket.
I ignored it.
Claire didn’t.
“Check.”
“No.”
“Daniel.”
“Nothing matters more than you.”
“I know.”
She swallowed.
“But if it’s about your dad…”
I checked.
Three messages from Michael.
CALL ME.
URGENT.
FOUND VOSS.
I called.
“What?”
Michael didn’t waste time.
“Leonard Voss is alive.”
“You said that.”
“No. I mean we located him.”
“Where?”
“About forty minutes away.”
“Can police talk to him?”
“They already are.”
“And?”
“He says he knows who N-01 is.”
My pulse jumped.
“Who?”
“He refuses to say over the phone.”
“Why?”
“He says Victor has been searching for that person for thirty-three years.”
“Why?”
“Because N-01 wasn’t a donor.”
“What was he?”
“The source of the entire Northstar program.”
I didn’t understand.
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know.”
Then Michael went quiet.
“What?”
“Daniel, Voss just asked the officers a question.”
“What question?”
“Whether Robert Mercer is still alive.”
My stomach tightened.
“What did they tell him?”
“That Robert was abducted.”
“And?”
“He started panicking.”
“Why?”
“He says Victor didn’t take Robert to learn where Northstar is.”
“Then why did he take him?”
“To force Robert to identify N-01.”
I looked at the document again.
“Who is N-01?”
Michael said, “Voss will only tell you in person.”
“I’m not leaving Claire.”
“I told him that.”
“And?”
“He’s coming to the hospital.”
“No.”
“Police are escorting him.”
“How long?”
“Ten minutes.”
I looked at Claire.
She nodded.
“Fine.”
Nine minutes later, two officers appeared outside Claire’s room.
Between them stood a thin man in his late seventies.
Leonard Voss.
He looked through the glass.
Saw me.
And stopped walking.
His face changed.
Not surprise.
Recognition.
He entered slowly.
“You’re Daniel.”
“Yes.”
He stared at my face.
Then whispered, “My God.”
“What?”
“You look exactly like him.”
“Like who?”
Voss glanced toward the officers.
Then toward Claire.
“You really don’t know.”
“No.”
He reached inside his coat.
An officer immediately stopped him.
“Slowly.”
Voss removed an old photograph.
He handed it to me.
A young man stood beside Victor Hale.
Same height.
Same dark hair.
Same eyes I saw every morning in the mirror.
On the back:
NORTHSTAR SUBJECT N-01.
I turned the photograph over.
A name had been written underneath.
Before I could read it, every light in the room went out.
Claire screamed.
The fetal monitor switched to emergency battery power.
Red lights flashed in the hallway.
An alarm began sounding.
One officer reached for his radio.
The other moved toward the door.
Voss grabbed my wrist.
“They found me.”
“Who?”
He looked past me toward the dark hallway.
Footsteps approached.
Slow.
Measured.
Then the hospital room door opened.
A man stepped into the emergency light.
Voss stared at him.
His face went white.
May you like
The man smiled at me.
And said, “Hello, son.”
