Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 99012 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99012 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Yet it didn’t sit right. What if Bella walked away from the team because the reminder of the man who built it was too much for her to handle? It made my stomach turn to think about supporting the legacy of a person who cared more about his money and freedom than a young girl who was living on the street or in a shelter.
Then again, this was my career—everything I’d worked for from the time I was a kid. I’d been part of the team since straight out of college. It was my home.
I tossed the papers back on the coffee table and scrubbed my hands over my face. I needed to think about it more. Everyone would just have to wait a little longer.
CHAPTER 30
* * *
BELLA
“So I’ve received both results,” my lawyer said.
I already regretted telling Miller I needed to do this alone, but I took a deep breath and sat up taller. “Okay?”
“The independent lab confirmed the original, unofficial opinion on the tire marks you were given. With a margin of error of less than one tenth of a percent, John Barrett’s Ford Thunderbird is a match to the tracks the police collected the night of the accident.”
I nodded. I’d been expecting that. Though it was still tough to hear. John Barrett had killed my mother, either on accident or on purpose. The more important question was, who was John Barrett to me?
I wrung my hands together on my lap. “And the DNA testing? Is John Barrett my father?”
My lawyer lifted a piece of paper and looked down. “The conclusive range for single-grandparent testing is generally a finding of ninety percent or better. If both the grandparents are tested—meaning the mother and the father of the possible parent—the results can be ninety-nine-point-nine percent or higher.” He turned the paper around and showed me. “Even with only one grandparent tested, your results came in at more than ninety-seven percent for exclusion.” He shook his head. “John Barrett is not your father.”
It felt like I couldn’t breathe.
John Barrett was not my father.
John Barrett was not my father.
John Barrett mowed down my mother and gave me a football team to try to clean the blood off his hands.
“I’m sorry, Bella. I know this was not the news you wanted to hear. But as we discussed when you came in to ask me for these tests, the results do not change anything about your inheritance. In hindsight, it’s clear that John Barrett chose his wording carefully in the will so your status as a beneficiary could not be disputed if these things were to come to light. Your name was specifically written without regard to any particular relationship.”
I couldn’t even think about the team or the money right now. All I could think was that my mother had been murdered, and I had no idea who I was. Again. My head spun as I realized it also meant Marvin Barrett was not my grandfather, and after that I couldn’t hold back the tears. I’d grown to love that man. He felt like my family, and now I was back to having none that mattered.
My lawyer reached behind him and plucked a few tissues from a box, extending them to me. “I’m not sure how you’d like to proceed,” he said, “being that there is no one to prosecute anymore. But I’m happy to take these findings into the police station so they can reopen the case.”
When I said nothing, my lawyer shook his head. “I’m sorry. I realize you’re not ready to make a decision like that right now. I only meant to tell you I can handle it, if that’s the way you’d like to proceed.”
I managed to nod and wiped my cheeks. “Thank you.”
“Is there someone I can call for you?”
The only person I wanted to call was Christian. I wanted to curl up in a ball on his chest and let him tell me everything was going to be okay. But even that relationship was a mess.
I shook my head. “I’m just going to call an Uber.”
He nodded. “I’m here if you need me to do anything at all.”
“Thank you.”
***
Two days later, I was still not out of my funk. I hadn’t showered, my hair was a matted mess, and the only thing I’d eaten was some ice cream, which I didn’t bother to scoop into a dish, and I now had a stain on my shirt where I’d dripped some of it.
Telling Coach had been even more devastating than I’d imagined. He’d cried. I’d cried. In the end, he’d promised it changed nothing between us. I wanted to believe him, but it felt impossible for that to be true.
My phone buzzed on the end table next to me, and I didn’t even bother to look. I’d spoken to Miller a few times, and Christian had texted to ask if I needed anything, which I assumed meant he’d spoken to my grandfa—Marvin Barrett.