Chapter 4 - THE TEST ELIAS DIDN’T WANT TO OPEN
The DNA test took three days.
Longest three days of my life.
Samples from both babies.
Mine.
Elias.
Archived DNA from Gabriel and his late wife obtained through their estate attorney.
When the envelopes arrived, I couldn't touch them.
Elias sat across from me.
“You don't have to know.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Why?”
“Because somebody else already knows.”
That was the difference.
Truth was dangerous.
Ignorance was more dangerous.
I opened Mia’s first.
Biological mother:
Ava Miller.
Biological father:
Gavin Mercer.
I cried.
Not relief exactly.
Recognition.
Then Rose.
Biological mother:
Isabelle Vance.
Biological father:
Gabriel Vance.
No biological relationship to me.
I stared at the paper.
Rose cried from the bassinet.
My body responded instantly.
Milk let down.
Chest aching.
I picked her up.
There.
Biology could say what it wanted.
My body knew her.
My heart did too.
Elias looked at the report.
“My niece.”
“Yes.”
He swallowed.
“Gabriel’s daughter.”
“Yes.”
Then I looked at him.
“My daughter.”
He met my eyes.
“Yes.”
No hesitation.
That mattered.
We brought in attorneys.
Not Mafia lawyers.
Family-law specialists.
Medical-consent experts.
The implantation was unauthorized.
I had carried Rose believing she was genetically mine.
That created a legal nightmare.
But one fact helped.
No surviving genetic parents.
I was gestational mother.
I was the only mother Rose had ever known.
Elias refused to pursue custody.
He signed an affidavit immediately:
I recognize Ava Miller as Rose’s mother in every practical, emotional, and legal sense available.
I cried when I read it.
Then Gavin filed for emergency custody of both twins.
Of course he did.
He claimed Elias was a dangerous criminal keeping his wife and children hostage.
The same man who threw us under an overpass now wanted court protection.
His petition included photographs of the Vance penthouse.
Security men.
Vehicles.
Weapon allegations.
It looked terrible.
Elias said:
“I'll move you.”
“What?”
“Somewhere clean.”
“No.”
“Ava.”
“If I run every time Gavin lies, he controls the map.”
He stared.
I was learning from him.
Maybe too quickly.
Our attorney produced evidence.
Hospital discharge records.
Witness statements.
Street camera footage showing Gavin’s car near the overpass.
And eventually—
a video.
A traffic camera had captured Gavin stopping beneath the bridge.
He opened the passenger door.
Pulled me out.
Then placed both bassinets beside me.
The video had no audio.
It did not need any.
The judge watched in silence.
Gavin's attorney stopped arguing.
Temporary custody?
Denied.
Protective order?
Granted.
Then the judge referred the matter for criminal investigation.
Gavin left court looking at me like I had betrayed him.
Absurd.
Outside, reporters waited.
Someone had leaked the Mafia connection.
Microphones appeared.
WIFE OF FINANCIAL EXECUTIVE LIVING WITH ALLEGED CRIME BOSS
I panicked.
Elias stepped beside me.
Then stopped.
He did not touch me until I nodded.
Small thing.
Huge.
We walked through the crowd.
One reporter shouted:
“Mr. Vance, are the children being used in an organized-crime inheritance dispute?”
Elias stopped.
I squeezed his sleeve.
Don't.
He understood.
No public war.
We entered the car.
That night, he said:
“You were right.”
“About?”
“Courts.”
I smiled.
“You sound disappointed.”
“I am.”
“What did you expect?”
“More shouting.”
I laughed for the first time since giving birth.
The sound surprised both of us.
Then Elias’s phone rang.
His expression hardened.
Victor Dane had responded to the court filing.
Not legally.
May you like
He kidnapped Gavin.
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