Chapter 1 - The Blood Test
The quiet hum of the pediatric intensive care unit’s air filtration system felt deafening after Derek dropped his bombshell. Nathan stared at Derek, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. My mother’s fingers tightened so hard around her handbag strap that her knuckles turned white.
“What do you mean, he isn't yours?” my father demanded, stepping forward. His voice echoed down the sterile linoleum hallway, drawing a sharp, warning look from a passing nurse. “Chloe spent six months posting updates. She told everyone in our social circle that Derek was the father. She even named you on the birth announcement card sent to our house.”
Derek didn’t flinch. He kept his gaze locked on my father, his posture rigid. “Chloe can print whatever cards she wants. It doesn’t change biology. The baby in that room is sick, and when they admitted him yesterday afternoon, routine admission blood panels were drawn. A genetic incompatibility flag came up. The hospital required a paternal verification test because of a rare hereditary blood disorder that runs in Chloe’s family. And when the preliminary results came back this morning... the hospital called me.”
“Why would they call you if you aren't the father?” Nathan scoffed, trying to regain his footing. “You’re just making up excuses because you got caught cheating on Clara with her best friend!”
“I didn't cheat, Nathan,” Derek said, his voice dropping to a low, lethal register that made even my brother step back. “And I am not the father. But according to the legal paperwork Chloe filed at the maternity ward, she listed me as the default because my name was still technically tied to her lease from when we briefly shared a building downtown two years ago—before she even met the actual father.”
I crossed my arms, looking down at my mother. “You believed her over your own daughter. You accepted every single text, every photograph, and every smear campaign without ever asking me how I felt when my marriage collapsed.”
My mother looked away, her face flushing with a mix of shame and stubborn pride. “Chloe was always so polite to us, Clara. She came to dinner. She brought us pastries. You were always away at the lab or working late shifts at the clinic. A home needs a woman who is present.”
“And now Chloe’s home of lies is collapsing,” I said quietly. “And she called the only people she thought would come running to bail her out—my family.”
Before anyone could reply, the heavy double doors of the PICU swung open. Dr. Harrison, the senior attending physician, walked out wearing green scrubs and a grave expression. He looked around the small circle of us, his eyes resting on Derek and me.
“Are you family?” Dr. Harrison asked.
May you like
“I’m his mother,” a sharp, panicked voice echoed from down the hallway.
We all turned. Chloe was hurrying toward us, wearing oversized sunglasses, her hair unbrushed, clutching a designer handbag like a shield. She froze the moment she saw Derek standing shoulder-to-shoulder with me, flanked by my parents and Nathan.
