Page 147 of Ruthless Claim

99.97%.

Conclusive.

I was so sure.

The timing. The practiced story.

The is it accurate asked in the tone of someone who already knows the answer.

All of it pointing one direction, all of it adding up to something wrong, something off, something my gut has been screaming at me about.

The DNA doesn’t lie.

Cillian stiffens beside me. I hear him exhale, slow and controlled, then can feel his gaze on mine.

The counselor talks about documentation and official reports and what happens next, but I can’t hear anything he says over the roaring in my ears.

Conclusive.

99.97%.

From somewhere across the room I hear Claire make a small soft sound of triumph.

She won.

She fucking won.

The gamble paid off.

I stare at the floor.

I was so sure.

I was so completely, absolutely sure.

And I was wrong.

18

VALENTINA

99.97%.

That number is running on a loop somewhere behind my eyes. 99.97. 99.97. 99.97.

Someone else is talking but their voice is reaching me from somewhere underwater, distant and slightly distorted.

There is a buzzing in my ears that arrived the moment he said conclusive and has not stopped.

Cillian is Finn’s father.

Cillian is Finn’s father and I was wrong. The science is clear. Science doesn’t lie.

Even with me being so bad at science, I know that. I sit with my hands in my lap, that buzz in my ears getting louder and louder. I don’t know what I’m feeling right now as the shock is so pervasive it sits heavy on me, nearly suffocating me.

I should say something. There are probably appropriate responses that people give when a genetic counselor confirms paternity, but I have no idea what to say.

I need to get out of here.