“The court will require the appearance of the child’s parents,” he declared, “if they are alive. If not, a death certificate will suffice.”
My fingers curled into a fist. “My parents aren’t dead.”
“I’m aware.”
Clearly, that man had handed him everything. Coldness moved through my chest and settled there. He wasn’t bluffing. He came to this door, already knowing what he wanted.
“Absent guardians complicate custody matters,” the lawyer continued. “The court does not favor ambiguity.”
“DNA,” I said, cutting in before he could build any more of whatever this was. “We can do a DNA test.”
For the first time, he smiled. It was a fake one that botheredme. “That won’t be necessary.”
He reached into the briefcase again and pulled out another folder. He opened it just enough for me to see the charts, graphs, and official stamps.
My vision blurred for a second as I tried to make sense of what I was looking at. He already had the results that pointed to him as the father. That made no sense.
My eyes caught the name printed across the top of the document.
Dmitri Konstantinov.
The first name landed almost ordinarily. The last name was something else. It settled into the air with a weight. A name that didn’t belong in casual conversation, small rooms, or the mouth of someone who didn’t already know what it carried.
The kind of name that came with consequences.
What did I just walk into? Was this even real? Did he fake the results?
“What the hell is this?” I whispered, my voice barely holding its shape as I looked back at the lawyer.
“Probability of paternity is ninety—”
“That’s impossible.” My words cut across his sentence before he could finish it. “This is insane. That doesn’t even make sense.”
My thoughts scrambled over each other. Nothing came. I kept staring at the page, and the page stared back.
“You’re welcome to challenge it in court.” He closed the folder like he hadn’t just dropped a grenade into my doorway. “But my client prefers discretion. He said you’re aware of what you’re supposed to do.”
“I want to see him,” I blurted. “We can talk and sort this out. There has to be a way to fix this without—” I stopped, because I didn’t even know how to finish that sentence anymore.
He smiled again. I was starting to hate that smile with a specific kind of energy.
“He expected that,” he said. “The car is waiting outside. Bring his son.”
The lie I told had grown teeth. And it was already biting.
When we got into the car and the driver pulled off, I spent the entire ride convincing myself we were heading somewhere quiet. A place with no witnesses and no one who would think twice about two people disappearing into it.
Instead, the car slowed in front of a building that rose above everything around it. It was all glass and clean-edged, throwing the city back at itself like a mirror that decided it owned the moment. It looked not only expensive but like a place where serious business happened.
DK Holdings was engraved in an attention-seeking way on the building.
If he worked here, even at the lowest level, power didn’t always come with a title. Sometimes it just came with proximity to the right rooms. And Dmitri did not strike me as a man who had ever stood at the bottom of anything in his life.
The driver turned in his seat. “You’ll be escorted to the boss’s office at reception.”
Boss?
I let that word settle in my chest. Without a word, I took Cole’s hand and stepped out of the car. I glanced around, expecting to see the lawyer and the officer, but whatever role they played ended before this part.
