“I dare because a crime was committed in my lab,” Dr. Ellis cut her off sharply. He opened the black folder and pulled out official documents. “Two days ago, one of our technicians was caught attempting to switch samples. She has already confessed. She was paid five thousand dollars to replace Toby’s swab with DNA from an unrelated individual. We have her on camera, bank records, and a full confession.”
He turned to me, his voice softening. “Mrs. Hargrove, I am deeply sorry for the pain this caused you. Toby is one hundred percent your husband’s biological son. We ran an emergency retest this afternoon using a new sample I personally collected from your son’s pediatric records and Scott’s file. The probability of paternity is 99.9998%.”
He handed me the new report. My hands shook so badly I could barely read it, but the numbers were there—clear, undeniable.
The room erupted.
Paige looked like she’d been slapped. Marcus stared at the floor in shame. Several relatives began whispering furiously.
Scott’s face crumpled. He dropped to his knees right there on the Persian rug, right in front of the dining table. “Olivia… baby…”
I couldn’t speak. Tears finally spilled down my cheeks.
Adelaide tried to recover. “This doesn’t change the fact that she—”
“Enough!” Scott roared, his voice breaking. He looked up at his mother with pure fury. “You did this. You’ve never accepted Olivia. You’ve questioned everything about her since day one. And now you went behind my back and tampered with a DNA test? My son’s DNA?”
He turned back to me, still on his knees, and wrapped his arms around my waist, pressing his face against my pregnant belly. I was six months along with our second child—a daughter we had just found out about two weeks ago.
“I’m so sorry,” he sobbed against me. “I let them get in my head. I doubted you. I failed you. I failed our son.”
Toby woke up from the commotion, rubbing his eyes. When he saw his father on the floor crying, he reached out with his little arms. “Daddy?”
