The Last Gift

PART 2 — THE WRONG HEIR

Vincent stared at the DNA report as if the words might disappear if he looked long enough.

Probability of paternity: 0%.

The child was not his.

For several seconds, nobody spoke.

Then Vincent slowly turned toward Sophia.

“What is this?”

Sophia looked at the report in his hand. The color drained from her face.

“Vincent, I can explain.”

“Explain what?”

He threw the report onto her hospital bed.

“Tell me why a DNA test says that boy isn’t mine.”

Eleanor gasped.

“That’s impossible! He’s a Moretti!”

Sophia began crying.

“Someone must have made a mistake. I was pregnant with your child. You know that!”

Vincent stepped closer.

“Then why does the report identify another man?”

Sophia shook her head desperately.

But Vincent wasn’t finished.

He pulled out his phone and showed her a photograph taken by one of his men. It showed Sophia entering a private apartment building three months earlier.

Standing beside her was his cousin, Adrian Moretti.

Eleanor nearly dropped the baby blanket in her hands.

“Adrian? My nephew?”

Sophia covered her face.

“Please, Vincent. Don’t do this here.”

Vincent’s voice became dangerously quiet.

“How long?”

She said nothing.

“How long have you been sleeping with him?”

Finally, Sophia whispered, “Since before I became pregnant.”

The room fell silent.

Vincent laughed once, without humor.

He had spent months buying her expensive gifts, protecting her, and preparing to give her son the Moretti name.

Meanwhile, she had been carrying another man’s child.

“Get a paternity test with Adrian,” he ordered his men. “And find him. I want him here.”

Eleanor stepped forward.

“What about the baby?”

Vincent looked at the newborn.

For the first time, he seemed uncertain.

“The child is innocent. Make sure he’s cared for.”

Then he walked out of the hospital room.

In the hallway, his security chief approached him.

“Boss, there’s something else.”

“What?”

“Mrs. Moretti has officially filed for divorce. Her attorney submitted everything yesterday. She also transferred her personal assets out of the joint accounts.”

Vincent froze.

“Where is she?”

“Seattle. Her flight landed three hours ago.”

He immediately called my number.

The phone was switched off.

He called again.

Nothing.

Then he opened the photograph from our fifth wedding anniversary.

I was standing beside him in a beautiful white dress, smiling as though I had everything I ever wanted.

Vincent stared at my face.

“Claire,” he whispered.

For the first time, he realized I hadn’t left because I was angry.

I had left because I was finished.

But he still believed he could bring me home.

He had no idea that the woman who once loved him had already begun building a life he could never control.