as adultery.
“Yes,” Natalie said.
“My mother’s attorney.
I was helping her with the warehouse case.”
Patricia gave a dismissive laugh.
“Convenient.”
Natalie turned back to Andrew.
“You could have asked me.”
“I did.”
“No, you made suspicious comments and then stopped talking to me.
That’s not asking.”
Andrew pointed toward the paper.
“The test answered the question.”
Natalie looked at the result again.
Impossible.
There had been nobody else.
Not before Caleb’s conception.
Not during the pregnancy.
Not after.
She and Andrew had struggled for nearly eighteen months to have a child.
They had tracked cycles, visited specialists, gone through tests, and eventually conceived without treatment shortly before they were scheduled to begin fertility medication.
Andrew had cried when Natalie showed him the positive pregnancy test.
He had been beside her during every ultrasound.
He had cut Caleb’s umbilical cord.
Natalie remembered the exact way Andrew’s hands had trembled the first time the nurse placed Caleb against his chest.
And now he was standing six feet away, letting a sheet of paper erase all of it.
“The report is wrong,” Natalie said.
Stephanie folded her arms.
“Labs don’t just invent DNA.”
“Then the sample was contaminated, mislabeled, something.
I don’t know.
But I know who Caleb’s father is.”
Patricia stepped forward.
“Leave my house.”
Natalie stared at her.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.
You’ve humiliated my son enough.”
Andrew said nothing.
That silence hurt more than Patricia’s cruelty.
Natalie waited for him to intervene.
He didn’t.
“Andrew,” she whispered.
His jaw tightened.
“I think you should go.”
Caleb whimpered at the tension in his father’s voice.
Natalie kissed the top of his curls.
Something inside her hardened.
She folded the laboratory report, placed it in her handbag, and headed toward the front door.
Three knocks sounded before she reached it.
Hard.
Urgent.
Patricia frowned.
Andrew’s reaction was different.
He went pale.
Natalie noticed.
She opened the door.
A gray-haired man in a dark raincoat stood outside carrying a leather document case.
“Mr.
Andrew Mercer?” he asked.
Andrew came forward reluctantly.
“Yes.”
The stranger produced identification.
“Dr.
Elias Grant.
Medical director at Northbridge Genetics.
I apologize for arriving unannounced, but we’ve been trying to contact you for the last forty minutes.”
Natalie’s pulse quickened.
Dr.
Grant noticed the folded report protruding from her bag.
“You’ve already received the result.”
Andrew nodded.
“Yes.”
The doctor looked grave.
“Then we need to discuss it immediately.
The result should not have been released.”
Patricia moved toward the doorway.
“Whatever this is can be discussed tomorrow.”
Dr.
Grant glanced at her.
“No, ma’am.
It cannot.”
That was when Natalie first saw fear in Patricia’s eyes.
Not surprise.
Fear.
She invited Dr.
Grant inside.
He placed his leather case on the dining-room table and removed a tablet.
“Northbridge uses dual identification on every private paternity specimen,” he explained.
“The intake technician scans a barcode when the package arrives, and the accession system records each transfer after that.
Earlier today, our quality-control department flagged the specimen associated with Caleb Mercer.”
Andrew stepped closer.
“Why?”
“Because the barcode scanned during extraction did not match the barcode originally assigned at intake.”
Natalie felt a chill spread through her.
“Meaning?”
“Meaning that the genetic material tested under your son’s identity was not the material received under his identity.”
The
