Two hours later, sitting across from the attorney, I felt even more exposed.
He was older, serious, wearing a well-cut gray suit. He studied the documents with a concentrated, grave expression.
“Well, Valentina,” he said finally, lifting his eyes over thin-framed glasses, “this situation is delicate. This test is Enrico Ferrara’s legal right. If he is the biological father, he has the right to recognize his child and pursue visitation. There isn’t much we can do to stop that.”
I clenched my hands in my lap, cornered.
“I don’t want to stop contact,” I said quickly. “I’ve never wanted to hurt Clara. But… why now? Why demand this after five years? This isn’t normal.” My voice trembled. “What if he tries to take my daughter from me?”
The attorney raised a hand, calm.
“Breathe, Valentina. It’s not that simple. You raised Clara alone for five years. He has not been present in her life. No judge is going to simply remove custody from you—especially considering you’ve provided stability and support.” His expression sharpened slightly. “But I need to warn you: he may attempt to claim parental alienation.”
My stomach dropped.
“Parental alienation?”
“Yes,” he said. “He can argue that you deliberately kept him away from the child for these years, denying him his rights as a father. That can complicate matters.”
My throat closed. It took effort to speak again.
“But I didn’t do that,” I said, voice breaking. “He rejected my baby before she was even born. He didn’t believe he was the father.”
The attorney studied me.
“Do you have proof of that?”
A bitter, broken laugh tore out of me.
“Countless newspaper headlines.”
His nod was small—but immediate.
“That’s helpful,” he said. “It can support your position that you never intended to alienate him—you were responding to rejection.”
A tear slipped down my cheek.
“So what can I do?”
He exhaled, resting his hands on the desk.
“First, cooperate with the test. If you resist, it strengthens his argument.” He leaned forward. “Second, we prepare for any future legal action. We’ll demonstrate that every decision you made was for Clara’s well-being. You have stable finances, a structured life here, strong community references. That works in your favor.”
I nodded, even though none of it eased the suffocating pressure in my chest.
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll do the test.” I forced myself steady. “What else do I need to do right now?”
His voice turned firmer.
“Prepare emotionally, Valentina. Enrico Ferrara is not here solely because of the child. The way this was handled makes it clear there’s a larger interest.” His gaze was direct. “You need to be strong. He will not hesitate to exploit any emotional vulnerability against you. Do not underestimate him.”
“I wouldn’t,” I whispered, a cold shiver sliding up my spine. “Believe me. I know exactly what Enrico Ferrara is capable of.”
The attorney observed me in silence for a moment, then nodded.
“Then we’ll be ready,” he said. “I’ll handle the necessary filings. You’ll receive an official summons to appear at the lab in the coming days.”
I stood, shook his hand with trembling fingers, and left his office with a deeper, sharper dread.
