Chapter 6 - The DNA Test and the Woman Who Lost ControlMargaret expected me to panic.
Instead, I called a family meeting.
Noah sat at the kitchen table with a notebook.
Sophie brought her stuffed rabbit.
I explained that their grandmother had questioned whether Ethan was their biological father.
Sophie looked offended.
"But we look exactly like him."
Noah nodded.
"Facial resemblance isn't conclusive evidence, but it's certainly suggestive."
I smiled faintly.
"That's why there's a DNA test."
Sophie frowned.
"Does it hurt?"
"Just a cheek swab."
She considered that.
"Then fine."
Noah looked at me.
"Will it prove we're his children?"
"Yes."
He closed his notebook.
"Then let's do it."
Ethan was furious when he learned about the petition.
He called Margaret immediately.
I wasn't present for the conversation, but Lucas later obtained a written statement confirming that Ethan had expressly opposed her legal action.
The next morning, Ethan came to my house.
He stood on the porch holding a folder.
"I've instructed my attorneys to support the children and challenge my mother's petition."
I nodded.
"Thank you."
He hesitated.
"I also want to establish a support arrangement immediately."
"Ethan—"
"Not as a condition. Not in exchange for access. Just because I should have contributed all these years."
I looked at him.
For once, he wasn't trying to bargain.
He was accepting responsibility.
"Lucas can discuss it with your lawyers."
He nodded.
"Of course."
The genetic testing took place the following week.
Ethan arrived early.
Noah examined the laboratory's information sheet.
Sophie asked whether the technician had stickers.
She received three.
One for herself.
One for Noah.
And one she handed to Ethan.
He stared at the little gold star.
"What's this for?"
"For being brave."
His eyes softened.
"Thank you."
Ten days later, the results arrived.
The probability of paternity exceeded 99.99 percent.
Ethan was Noah and Sophie's biological father.
The finding surprised nobody.
Except perhaps Margaret, who had apparently convinced herself that reality could be negotiated.
Her legal challenge collapsed.
But the damage she had done was far from over.
At the hearing, the judge questioned why a grandmother had initiated proceedings against the expressed wishes of the children's father.
Margaret's attorney struggled to explain.
Lucas presented the intercepted letters and other evidence relevant to the family's history.
The court did not decide every financial dispute that day.
Those matters would require separate proceedings.
But Margaret's attempt to use the children as leverage failed.
Outside the courthouse, reporters waited.
Ethan stepped toward the microphones.
I immediately moved to shield the twins.
He noticed.
Then he raised his hand.
"Please don't photograph my children."
A reporter shouted, "Mr. Sullivan, are the twins yours?"
Ethan looked directly into the cameras.
"Yes."
Another reporter asked, "Were you deceived?"
He paused.
"There are serious questions about what happened ten years ago, and those questions are being investigated."
"Do you blame your ex-wife?"
His expression hardened.
"No."
The reporters fell silent.
Ethan continued.
"Claire raised our children without my help. She gave them a safe, loving home while I lived a life that should have included them."
He swallowed.
"I will spend the rest of my life being grateful to her for that."
I stared at him.
He turned slightly toward me.
"And I owe her an apology that no public statement can adequately express."
Then he walked away from the microphones.
No grand declaration.
No attempt to make himself the victim.
Just the truth.
That evening, Sophie asked whether Ethan could come over for dinner.
I agreed.
He arrived with groceries.
No chef.
No catering service.
Just a paper bag containing pasta, tomatoes, bread, and strawberries.
"I thought I could cook."
Noah looked skeptical.
"Do you know how?"
Ethan hesitated.
"I used to."
I folded my arms.
"This should be interesting."
Forty minutes later, the kitchen smelled of burned garlic.
Sophie laughed so hard she nearly fell off her chair.
Noah opened a window.
Ethan stood over the ruined saucepan.
"I may have miscalculated."
I couldn't help laughing.
He looked at me.
For a moment, the years disappeared.
We were back in our first apartment.
Two young people making terrible pasta.
Believing the world was ours.
Then Sophie took his hand.
"It's okay. Mom burns pancakes sometimes."
"I do not."
Noah looked up.
"March seventeenth."
I stared at him.
"You keep records?"
"Only significant incidents."
We ordered pizza.
And for the first time, Ethan stayed long enough to help wash the dishes.
Later, while the twins watched a movie, he stood beside me at the sink.
"Claire?"
"Yes?"
"I don't expect you to forgive me."
I continued drying a plate.
"Good."
"But I want to be a good father."
I looked at him.
"Then be consistent."
He nodded.
"Show up when you say you will. Listen when they're upset. Don't make promises you can't keep."
"I won't."
"And never use money to replace time."
His eyes filled.
"I understand."
I handed him another plate.
"Then start there."
He smiled faintly.
For a moment, I almost smiled back.
Then his phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
His expression changed.
"What is it?" I asked.
He answered.
Listened.
Then slowly lowered the phone.
"Federal investigators have requested the company's financial records."
I stared at him.
"Because of Margaret?"
May you like
He nodded.
"And they've uncovered something worse than the transfers from ten years ago."
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