BONNIE
The doctor arrives at ten in the morning, exactly when Ash said she would.
Dr. Wise parks her silver sedan next to the row of Harleys and doesn’t even flinch when three patched members immediately surround her car. She grabs her medical bag from the passenger seat and walks toward the clubhouse.
I watch from the window of Ash’s office. My stomach churns, but not from morning sickness this time. “She’s here,” I say.
Ash looks up from the paperwork spread across his desk. “You ready?”
“No.”
“Too bad.” He stands and crosses to me, wrapping his arms around my waist from behind. “The test is noninvasive. Quick and easy.”
“It’s not the test I’m worried about. It’s the answer.”
Ghost and Titan are already downstairs waiting. I heard their bikes pull in twenty minutes ago, followed by the low rumble of their voices discussing patrol schedules with some of the other brothers.
Everything feels too normal, like this is just another day.
Ash takes my hand and leads me downstairs. The common room goes quiet when we walk through. Brothers pretend not to stare, but I can feel their eyes tracking us across the room.
They all know the doctor is here. They just don’t know why yet.
We’ll tell them at the next church meeting after we have the results. After we know what we’re dealing with.
Dr. Wise waits in the meeting room, setting up her supplies on the long table where we hold church. Ghost and Titan stand near the door, arms crossed, watching her work.
She’s young—maybe early thirties—with dark blonde hair pulled into a sleek bun and sharp eyes that miss nothing. She looks up when we enter and offers a professional smile.
“Mrs. Torres,” she says, extending her hand. “I’m Dr. Wise. Your husband called me yesterday about running a paternity test.”
I shake her hand. Her grip is firm and cool. “Thank you for coming.”
“Of course.” She glances at the three men standing around me. “I assume these are the other potential fathers?”
“Yeah,” Titan says before anyone else can answer. “That’s us.”
She doesn’t even blink. She just nods and starts pulling supplies from her bag. “For prenatal paternity testing, I’ll need to draw blood from you, Mrs. Torres. The baby’s DNA circulates in your bloodstream, which allows us to analyze it without any invasive procedures. Then I’ll collect cheek swabs from each potential father for comparison.”
I swallow. “You need to draw blood?”
“Yes. Just a standard blood draw, similar to what you’d get at any doctor’s office.” She arranges tubes and supplies on the table. “The lab will isolate fetal DNA from your blood sampleand compare it against the DNA from the potential fathers. Results typically take seven to ten business days.”
“How accurate is it?” I ask.
“Ninety-nine point nine percent.” She preps the needle and tourniquet. “It’s the most reliable non-invasive method available.”
Ghost shifts beside me. “And it’s safe for the baby?”
“Completely. We’re only drawing blood from the mother—no risk to the pregnancy whatsoever. This test has been used safely for years.”
That seems to satisfy him. His shoulders relax slightly.
She has me sit down and roll up my sleeve. The tourniquet tightens around my upper arm. She swabs the inside of my elbow with alcohol. “Small pinch,” she warns.
The needle slides in, and I look away, watching the vial fill with dark red blood. One vial. Two. Three.
When she’s done, she presses gauze to the puncture site and tapes it down. “Keep pressure on that for a few minutes.”
