Chapter 17 - THE SECOND DNA TEST
I laughed.
Not because anything was funny.
Because the accusation was so insane that my body did not know what else to do.
“Michael is not their father.”
Gabriel looked at me.
“I know.”
“You know?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
He almost looked offended.
“Claire.”
“I’m asking because your family apparently collects impossible revelations.”
Adam grabbed the television remote.
“He claims DNA evidence.”
“Then it’s fake.”
I said.
“Probably.”
Gabriel replied.
“Probably?”
I glared.
He lifted both hands.
“I mean the document is probably fake.”
“Excellent recovery.”
The problem was biological.
Brothers could share enough DNA to complicate certain cheap tests.
But a proper paternity test could distinguish them.
Our first laboratory had used Gabriel’s sample.
The result was legitimate.
Unless the sample had been altered.
Gabriel went cold.
“Who transported the samples?”
“No Cross employees.”
I reminded him.
“The laboratory courier.”
“Who hired the courier?”
I thought.
The lab.
Patricia called them.
Thirty minutes later, we learned the original courier had been replaced that morning due to illness.
The substitute used temporary credentials.
He disappeared after delivery.
My stomach dropped.
Someone had manipulated the chain of custody.
Again.
We ordered a second test.
This time federal agents witnessed every step.
Gabriel.
Michael, by court order.
The boys.
Me.
Michael attended in person.
Seeing Gabriel’s brother in daylight was strange.
He looked less dangerous than he had at the terminal.
More tired.
He glanced at the boys.
Owen stared.
“You look like Dad.”
Michael said nothing.
Noah stepped closer.
“Are you our uncle?”
Michael looked at Gabriel.
Then at Noah.
“Yes.”
“Why did you say you’re our dad?”
Michael’s face tightened.
“Because I need people to listen.”
Noah frowned.
“That’s lying.”
“Yes.”
Michael looked strangely ashamed.
Noah shrugged.
“Mom says you can tell the truth later.”
I wanted to hug him.
Michael almost smiled.
Then he looked at me.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“The television statement.”
“Only that?”
His expression hardened again.
“I’m not apologizing for trying to take what was stolen from me.”
“My children were not stolen from you.”
“No.”
“The trust was.”
“That is not their fault.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
He looked away.
The tests took twenty-four hours.
During that time, the court temporarily froze all Heritage Trust activity.
No one could access assets.
No one could transfer control.
Vincent’s life work stopped behind a judge’s signature.
He must have been furious.
That pleased me.
Gabriel spent the waiting period with the boys.
Not as a mafia boss.
Not as an executive.
As a father.
He made pancakes.
Badly.
Owen ate them anyway.
He played chess with Noah.
Lost once.
Pretended he let Noah win.
Noah called him a liar.
He helped Eli build a model airplane.
Used too much glue.
Eli told him Mom was better at it.
Gabriel accepted defeat.
I watched from the kitchen.
Patricia stood beside me.
“You’re in trouble.”
I looked at her.
“What?”
“You’re looking at him like you used to.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“I’m observing.”
“You’re yearning.”
“Go bill someone.”
She laughed.
The results arrived at 4:12 p.m.
Probability Gabriel was the biological father:
99.99999 percent.
Probability Michael was the father:
Excluded.
No ambiguity.
No doubt.
The boys belonged biologically to Gabriel.
Michael read the report.
He closed his eyes.
Gabriel said nothing.
Finally, Michael whispered,
“Congratulations.”
Gabriel looked at him.
“They’re your nephews.”
Michael laughed bitterly.
“I don’t know how to be an uncle.”
“I didn’t know how to be a father last week.”
That silenced him.
Gabriel continued.
“You learn.”
Michael looked toward the boys.
“Why would you let me near them?”
“I didn’t say I would.”
I almost smiled.
There was Gabriel.
Michael nodded.
“Fair.”
Then Adam entered.
“Vincent wants a deal.”
“No.”
Gabriel said.
Adam looked at him.
“You didn’t hear it.”
“I don’t care.”
“He’s offering testimony.”
“Against whom?”
Adam paused.
“Michael.”
Michael’s face hardened.
Of course.
Vincent would sacrifice anyone.
Adam continued.
“He says Michael was responsible for the church shooting.”
Michael laughed.
“He ordered it.”
“Can you prove that?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
Michael looked toward the boys.
“Not here.”
We moved to another room.
Michael revealed his final secret.
Vincent kept a private archive.
Not digital.
Physical.
Every payment.
Every murder.
Every bribe.
Every manipulated trust.
Thirty years of records.
“Where?”
Adam asked.
Michael looked at Gabriel.
“Under Cross Freight headquarters.”
Gabriel frowned.
“There is no basement.”
Michael smiled.
“Exactly.”
Gabriel’s face changed.
Nathan had built a hidden level beneath the original Manhattan headquarters.
Vincent had controlled access.
The archive could destroy everyone.
Including Gabriel.
Adam said it directly.
“If we find those records, they may implicate you too.”
Gabriel nodded.
“I know.”
“You could go to prison.”
“I know.”
I looked at him.
“Gabriel.”
He met my eyes.
“This is the part where you usually find a way around consequences.”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“And I’m tired.”
The words were quiet.
“I’m tired of explaining why my crimes were necessary.”
“I’m tired of telling myself I was cleaner than my father because I drew different lines.”
“I’m tired of wondering which piece of this world will reach my sons next.”
He looked at Adam.
“Take the archive.”
Michael stared.
“You’d surrender your own records?”
“Yes.”
“You’ll lose everything.”
Gabriel glanced toward me.
“No.”
He said.
“Not everything.”
My chest tightened.
We planned the search for the following morning.
Then Michael disappeared again.
He left no message.
No explanation.
Only a paper airplane on Gabriel’s desk.
Gabriel unfolded it.
Inside, Michael had written an address.
Cross Freight headquarters.
Sublevel access code.
And one sentence.
I’M GOING FIRST.
Gabriel stood.
“Damn it.”
Adam reached for his phone.
Then every alarm in Cross Freight headquarters began broadcasting remotely.
Fire.
Security breach.
Emergency evacuation.
The hidden archive had been opened.
Michael was inside.
And according to the building system, someone else had entered with him.
May you like
Serena Vale.
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