Chapter 3 - The Secret Dossier
Private Investigator Ray Caldwell was a former Atlanta PD detective with thirty years of street experience and a face that looked like weathered granite. We met in a quiet booth at a diner off Ponce de Leon Avenue when I was thirty-two weeks pregnant.
Ray dropped a thick manila folder onto the table between us.
"You're not going to believe half of what's in here, Mrs. Johnson—sorry, Ms. Miller," Ray said, tapping the folder with a thick finger.
"Try me, Ray," I said, opening the clasp.
The first photograph was a crystal-clear surveillance shot of Jasmine Carter standing outside the perimeter fence of a transitional housing center in Duluth, Georgia. She was handing an envelope of cash to a tall, muscular man with a prominent dragon tattoo crawling up the side of his neck.
"That's Marcus Drake," Ray explained, pointing at the man in the photo. "He got released on full parole three weeks ago. Jasmine has met with him four times since his release. She’s been funneling cash to him from the allowance Darius gives her."
"Why would she pay him if she’s already secured Darius?" I asked, flipping through the pages of bank receipts, hotel security stills, and phone records.
"Because Marcus isn't just an ex-boyfriend," Ray said, leaning forward. "He’s a blackmailer. Or rather, a partner in crime. We pulled the medical records from the private clinic in Alpharetta where Jasmine had her first prenatal scan. The one she hid from Darius’s family."
Ray pulled out a medical intake sheet with the patient name Jasmine Carter and pointed to the estimated date of conception and blood type analysis.
"Darius is blood type O-negative," Ray said. "You know that because of your medical background. Jasmine is A-negative. The baby she is carrying was tested via non-invasive prenatal paternity screening at that clinic six months ago. The father is homozygous B-positive. Darius cannot biologically be the father of that child under any law of genetics."
I stared at the medical report. The numbers and alleles were unambiguous. The baby boy Jasmine was carrying—the child Evelyn was crowning as the sole heir to an eighty-million-dollar logistics empire—did not possess a single drop of Johnson blood.
"Does Marcus know the baby is his?" I asked.
"Marcus knows," Ray chuckled darkly. "In fact, Marcus was the one who planned the whole thing. Jasmine met Darius at a high-end charity gala where she was working as a hostess. She knew Darius was weak, desperate for validation, and alienated from his wife. When Jasmine found out she was pregnant with Marcus's child during his furlough, they decided to pin it on Darius to secure a lifetime of child support and luxury."
"And Evelyn fell for it hook, line, and sinker," I whispered.
"Not just fell for it—she accelerated it," Ray added. "Evelyn paid off Jasmine's credit card debt, bought her a luxury condo in Sandy Springs under the baby's future trust, and put five hundred thousand dollars into an escrow account payable upon the birth of a healthy male child."
I closed the folder, feeling an extraordinary sense of calm wash over me. The humiliation, the insults at the dinner table, the cold dismissal by the man I had loved for half a decade—all of it was about to collide with reality.
"When is Marcus planning to make his move?" I asked.
"Marcus is getting impatient," Ray said. "Jasmine promised him a hundred thousand dollars immediately after delivery. But Evelyn locked the escrow funds until the formal birth certificate and public naming ceremony take place. Marcus is furious. He thinks Jasmine is planning to cut him out and keep the Johnson wealth for herself."
"When is Jasmine’s scheduled C-section?"
"Next Tuesday at Northside Women’s Pavilion."
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I touched my own stomach. My daughter wasn't due for another four weeks, but she was thriving.
"Keep watching Marcus, Ray," I said, sliding the folder into my bag. "Keep watching him, and make sure he knows exactly where the Johnsons will be celebrating their new heir."
