“The probability of paternity is 99.9998 percent.”
Mark looked at me.
“I’m sorry.”
Two words.
Small. Late. Not enough.
I held Lily’s blanket in my fingers.
“I know she’s yours,” I said. “I never doubted it.”
His face crumpled.
“I did.”
“Yes,” I replied. “You did.”
Rachel placed the results on the desk.
“There’s more.”
Everyone turned to her.
She adjusted her glasses, and for the first time since I had known her, she looked unsettled.
“The lab flagged an unusual match in the genetic database.”
Mark frowned.
“What does that mean?”
Rachel hesitated.
“Lily’s sample was cross-referenced because of the legal chain of custody. A partial familial match appeared.”
My heart began to pound.
“To whom?” I asked.
Rachel looked at Mark.
“Not to you.”
Mark blinked.
“What?”
Rachel slid another page across the desk.
“The match connects Lily through Mark’s paternal line to another individual already in the database.”
David stood slowly.
“Who?”
Rachel’s face was pale.
“Vivian Cole.”
Carol gasped.
Mark stared at the paper.
“That’s impossible.”
Rachel’s voice remained even.
“The report indicates Vivian Cole is a close biological relative of Mark. Most likely a half-sibling.”
The room seemed to collapse inward.
Mark whispered, “No.”
Carol gripped David’s arm.
David’s lips barely moved.
“Grayson.”
Rachel nodded.
“That is one possible explanation.”
My mind raced backward through every message, every look, every photo.
Vivian had not chosen Mark randomly.
She had known.
She had known he was connected to the clinic. She had known his secret before he did. She had stepped into his life, earned his trust, poisoned his marriage, and waited for Lily’s birth like a woman waiting for a locked vault to open.
Mark sank into the chair.
“She’s my sister?”