I knew it was wrong — but how could I prove it? That night, Lucas asked me when his dad was coming back. I had no answer.
The next day, I decided to take a test myself, using my own samples. A week later, the results arrived…A week later, the results arrived.
Probability of maternity: 0%.
My heart stopped. It made no sense. Impossible. I had carried Lucas for nine months, endured sixteen hours of labor. How could I not be his mother?
Trembling, I printed the report and rushed to Helen’s house.
Caleb opened the door, pale as a ghost.
— “Claire, I told you—”
