Chapter 4 - The DNA Test Confirmed She Was My Daughter, but Someone Tried to Steal the Sample Before I Could See the ResultsBy noon, the hospital had changed.
Security guards stood outside the NICU.
Two lawyers arrived.
A judge's clerk called asking about emergency guardianship.
Someone had filed paperwork claiming Elena was “medically incapable of making decisions.”
I knew exactly whose fingerprints were behind it.
My mother.
But there was something she didn't know.
I had already hired the only lawyer my father ever trusted.
Marcus Reed.
He was seventy-one years old, retired, and terrifyingly precise.
“You should have come to me eight months ago,” he said.
“I know.”
“No.”
He pointed a finger at me.
“You don't know.”
I waited.
“You lost your wife because you stopped asking questions.”
He looked at the hospital papers.
“Now you have a child.”
“Yes.”
“And your mother wants custody.”
“Yes.”
“Then congratulations.”
“For what?”
“You finally have a reason to grow up.”
I almost smiled.
Almost.
Then a nurse rushed toward us.
“Mr. Vance?”
“Yes?”
“The baby's test results are ready.”
My heart stopped.
“DNA?”
“Yes.”
I followed her into a small consultation room.
The envelope sat on the table.
My name was printed across it.
The nurse placed it down.
“Only authorized parties can open this.”
I looked at Marcus.
“Open it.”
He did.
His eyes moved down the page.
Then he looked up.
“She's yours.”
The words should have brought relief.
Instead, I felt something break inside me.
My daughter.
My blood.
My child.
A little girl I had missed before she was even born.
I sat down.
“What's her name?”
The nurse smiled.
“Elena named her.”
“What's her name?”
“Clara.”
I closed my eyes.
Clara.
The name my father had wanted for his first grandchild.
My mother had once told me it sounded old-fashioned.
My father had said old things sometimes mattered.
I looked at the paper.
“Can I see her?”
The nurse nodded.
“Her mother has approved it.”
I followed her to the NICU.
Clara was tiny.
Smaller than I expected.
A little pink face beneath transparent tubes.
Her hand moved.
I placed one finger against it.
She closed her fingers around mine.
I stopped breathing.
“Hi, Clara.”
My voice broke.
“I’m your dad.”
She didn't know what that meant.
But I did.
For the first time in my life, power meant nothing.
I didn't want money.
I didn't want revenge.
I wanted one tiny person to survive.
Then the monitor beeped.
A nurse came running.
“What's wrong?”
The monitor showed a sudden drop.
Doctors surrounded the incubator.
I stepped back.
“What happened?”
“Her oxygen is dropping.”
“Why?”
“We don't know.”
They moved her to another station.
I watched helplessly.
Thirty seconds later, she stabilized.
The doctor frowned.
“There may be an issue with the sample.”
“What sample?”
“The blood sample we used.”
I felt cold.
“Why?”
“There was a contamination concern.”
“Contamination?”
“Yes.”
The nurse looked at the original paperwork.
“That doesn't make sense.”
Marcus looked at me.
“Someone tampered with the evidence.”
He was right.
We demanded a second test.
The hospital agreed.
The sample was collected under supervision.
This time, only three people were present.
Me.
Marcus.
A nurse.
But six hours later, Marcus called me.
“Dominic.”
“What?”
“The new result is different.”
My blood ran cold.
“What?”
“It says you are not the father.”
Silence.
“That is impossible.”
“I know.”
“Then what happened?”
“I don't know.”
I drove to the hospital.
The nurse who had collected the sample was crying.
“I don't understand,” she said.
“Who had access?”
“No one.”
“Everyone,” Marcus corrected.
Security footage was reviewed.
At 2:41 p.m., an orderly entered the testing room.
He wore the correct uniform.
He had the correct badge.
He had no reason to be there.
At 2:44, he left.
The problem was that the real orderly had been home sick.
The badge had been cloned.
Jonas found him three hours later.
Not at his home.
At a parking garage.
With cash.
A burner phone.
And a photograph.
The photograph showed Meera.
I stared at it.
“What does she have to do with this?”
Jonas shook his head.
“We don't know yet.”
I called Meera.
She answered immediately.
“You owe me an apology.”
“You were near the hospital.”
“I visited.”
“Why?”
“I wanted to talk.”
“You tampered with a DNA sample.”
“What?”
“Don't lie.”
“I didn't.”
“Who is the man working for you?”
She went silent.
“Meera.”
“I didn't do anything.”
“Then tell me what you know.”
“I know your mother is terrified.”
“Terrified of what?”
“Of Elena.”
I frowned.
“Why?”
“She found the account.”
“What account?”
“The forty-two million.”
My grip tightened.
“How do you know?”
“Because someone paid me to find it.”
“Who?”
She hung up.
I stared at the phone.
Someone had used Meera.
Someone had used my mother.
Someone had used Richard.
Maybe everyone had been pieces in a much larger game.
And Elena had known.
I went to her room.
She was awake.
I showed her the photograph of Meera.
Her face changed.
“You know her.”
“Yes.”
“She came to see me once.”
“When?”
“Before I left.”
“What did she want?”
“Elena?”
“She asked me where I kept the documents.”
“What documents?”
“The ones your father left behind.”
My heart stopped.
“My father gave you something?”
“No.”
She looked at me.
“He gave it to your mother.”
“And she gave it to Richard.”
“And Richard gave it to someone else.”
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
I sat down.
“Then how did you find the forty-two million?”
Elena looked toward the window.
“I didn't find it.”
“What?”
“I found where your father hid the evidence.”
“Where?”
She smiled faintly.
“Somewhere your family never thought to look.”
“Where?”
“In our old house.”
I stared at her.
“Our bedroom?”
She nodded.
“Behind the wall.”
My heart pounded.
“What was there?”
She looked at me.
“A ledger.”
“What did it say?”
“Elena…”
May you like
She whispered.
“It said your father's death was purchased.”
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