Chapter 3: The Man at the Door
I stared at my sister's message until the words blurred.
"Daniel." Dr.
Reeves leaned forward.
"Are you all right?"
"I have to go."
I was already standing.
My coat was in my hand before I realized I'd picked it up.
"We need to schedule follow-up testing — the full panel, a specialist consult—"
"Schedule whatever you need," I said.
"Call me tonight."
The drive home took eleven minutes.
I know because I watched the clock the entire way, my hands steady on the wheel in a way the rest of me was not.
My sister, Paula, was waiting on the front porch.
She had positioned herself between the door and the man standing at the bottom of the steps.
She was five-foot-four and had her arms crossed, and she looked immovable.
The man was around forty.
Well-dressed.
Dark jacket, no tie.
He had a leather folder tucked under one arm and the careful, practiced stillness of someone who had prepared for this moment.
I got out of the car.
"Daniel," Paula said, her voice carrying a warning I already understood.
The man turned.
He looked at me the way people look at obstacles.
"Mr.
Daniel Hartley?"
"That's me."
"My name is Victor Marsh." He held out a business card.
I didn't take it.
"I'm Carrie's biological father.
I've been trying to locate her for some time."
"Her name is Carrie Hartley," I said.
"The adoption was finalized four months ago."
Something moved across his face.
Not surprise — he'd known.
He adjusted it quickly.
"I understand there's a legal document in place," he said.
"That's actually why I'm here.
There are grounds to contest it."
Paula made a sound beside me.
"On what grounds?" I asked.
"I was never properly notified of the adoption proceedings.
My parental rights were terminated without my knowledge or consent.
That's a procedural violation." He finally opened the leather folder.
"I have a family law attorney.
We filed a petition this morning."
I looked at the papers.
I didn't touch them.
"Where have you been for the last six years?" I asked.
"That's a complicated—"
"She was ten years old when her mother d*ed.
She stood in front of a judge and said she didn't want to lose another parent." I took one step closer.
"Where were you for that?"
His jaw tightened.
"I had circumstances that prevented—"
"I'm going to need you to leave my property," I said.
"If you have legal papers, have your attorney contact mine."
"Mr.
Hartley, this will go much more smoothly if we—"
"My attorney's name is Gerald Foss.
He's in the book." I held the door open for Paula.
"Goodnight, Mr.
Marsh."
He didn't move immediately.
He stood at the bottom of those steps for a long moment, looking up at me, recalculating.
"I do want what's best for Carrie," he said.
His voice had shifted — softer now, almost reasonable.
"I think if you and I talked, really talked, you'd understand that."
"Goodnight."
He left.
I watched his car until it turned the corner.
Paula touched my arm.
"Carrie's upstairs.
She doesn't know he was here."
"Good." I exhaled.
"Keep it that way for tonight."
Inside, I stood at the bottom of the stairs and listened.
The faint sound of Carrie's music from her room.
The ordinary sound of a Tuesday evening.
Paula stepped close and lowered her voice.
"Daniel.
What did the doctor say?"
I looked at her.
"He said I might not be dying."
Her hand went to her mouth.
"And then my phone went off," I said.
She stared at me for a long moment.
Then she sat down on the bottom stair, right there in her coat, and pressed her palms flat against her knees.
"Okay," she said quietly.
"Okay.
We'll figure this out."
I sat down beside her.
Upstairs, Carrie's music played on.
I thought about Victor Marsh's eyes when I'd told him the adoption was finalized.
He'd known.
May you like
He had known before he knocked on that door, and he'd come anyway.
That told me everything I needed to know about why he was really here.
