Chapter 2
The paternity report looked professional.
That was the first problem.
Brenna had expected something obviously questionable after seeing how Sybil behaved.
Instead, the document contained Gavin’s full legal name, Owen’s name, Marissa Cole’s name, collection dates, laboratory branding, and a probability of paternity above ninety-nine percent.
Gavin placed it on the library table the next morning.
Brenna did not touch it.
Her attorney, Rachel Sloan, did.
“Who ordered the test?”
Gavin answered.
“My mother arranged it.”
Rachel looked up.
“Why?”
“Marissa contacted her first.”
Brenna’s eyes moved to Gavin.
“Why would a woman claiming you fathered her child contact your mother instead of you?”
Gavin rubbed his jaw.
“She said she was afraid.”
“Of me?”
“Of the family.”
Brenna almost smiled.
Not because it was funny.
Because everyone used the family whenever they needed a vague explanation that could not be disproved.
Rachel examined the document.
“Was the collection done at the lab?”
“No.”
“Where?”
“My mother’s house.”
Brenna’s attention sharpened.
Gavin continued.
“A nurse came out.”
“You were there?”
“Yes.”
“Owen?”
“Yes.”
“Marissa?”
“Yes.”
Rachel wrote something down.
“Did you personally verify the collector’s credentials?”
“No.”
“Did you contact the lab directly afterward?”
“No.”
Gavin became defensive.
“It had their name on it.”
Brenna looked at him.
“So does every spam email that says it came from a bank.”
He stared at her.
She did not soften.
Three weeks ago, Gavin had been shown a life-changing document.
Instead of calling a laboratory, doctor, lawyer, or independent professional, he accepted the process because his mother arranged it.
That bothered Brenna almost as much as the secrecy.
Rachel asked for the original email containing the report.
Sybil’s assistant had forwarded it to Gavin.
Not the lab.
The email attachment had passed through three people before reaching the man whose name was on it.
Rachel looked at Brenna.
“We verify independently.”
Gavin nodded immediately.
“I agree.”
Brenna studied him.
“You agree now.”
His face tightened.
“Yes.”
That afternoon Brenna met Marissa Cole.
No bodyguards entered the room.
No Ashford relatives.
Only attorneys.
Marissa was thirty-eight and looked more anxious than calculating.
She did not resemble a woman who had spent seven years waiting to spring a secret son on a wealthy family.
Brenna asked one question.
“Why now?”
Marissa looked toward her lawyer.
Then answered.
“Because Sybil found me.”
Brenna went completely still.
“You didn’t contact her?”
“No.”
“Gavin says you did.”
Marissa shook her head.
“I hadn’t spoken to any Ashford in eight years.”
Rachel leaned forward.
“Then how did Sybil find you?”
May you like
Marissa took a breath.
“She said she’d been looking.”
