Chapter 2 - The Red Box
I stared at the glowing phone screen, my vision blurring as adrenaline flooded my bloodstream.
"Nolan, read what it says," I whispered, my voice trembling with rage and disbelief. "That doesn't say she's not yours."
"It says they couldn't prove she was," he snapped back, his jaw clenching. "It means the math didn't add up."
"Let me read the rest of the page," I said, reaching out to take the phone so I could scroll down and see the fine print beneath the table. "Hand me the phone."
Before my fingers could touch the glass, Nolan snatched the device back off the table and shoved it into his pocket.
"You don't need to turn this into one of your payroll audits, Chloe," he spat, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. "You always do this. You try to analyze and lawyer your way out of things when the truth is sitting right in front of you."
I looked at Lenora. She wasn't gasping. She wasn't crying. She wasn't looking at her son in shock. She was sitting there, calmly folding the two sky-blue sweaters over her lap, her chin held high, her eyes fixed on her dinner plate.
A terrible, sickening realization washed over me.
The missing third sweater wasn't an oversight. It wasn't a store being out of stock. It was a calculated, deliberate statement. Lenora already knew about this test before she stepped foot inside my house today. Nolan had shown her the report, discussed his suspicions, and planned this confrontation with his mother—all behind my back, while I was up at three in the morning feeding our children.
"Who collected these samples, Nolan?" I asked, forcing my voice to stay level, though every nerve in my body was screaming.
"I did," he replied coldly.
"When?"
"Last week. When you were asleep. I ordered a home collection kit online."
"You took cotton swabs and stuck them in our five-month-old babies' mouths in the middle of the night without telling their mother?"
"I had a right to know!" he snapped, raising his voice for the first time. "Look at her, Chloe! She doesn't look like me, she doesn't look like my family, and now the lab sends back a red box saying 'No Result' for her while her brothers come back ninety-nine point nine percent mine! How do you explain that?"
"I explain it by saying you don't know how to read a lab report!" I shouted, standing up from my chair. "If you want to know what it means, then hand me the entire document and let me read the laboratory notes!"
Nolan stood up too, towering across the table from me. "I am not going to spend the next eighteen years paying for another man's child, Chloe!"
Right on cue, as if reacting to the sudden rise in tension, Willa let out a soft, high-pitched squeal from her bouncer. It was the sweet, playful noise she made whenever she wanted attention.
Normally, Nolan would react instantly. He had a ridiculous, three-note whistle he always made back to her whenever she made that sound, followed by scooping her up and tossing her gently in the air until she giggled.
This time, Nolan didn't even look down. He turned his face away from her as if she were a stranger on the street.
I felt a wave of maternal fury so intense it made my hands shake. I reached down, gently lifted Willa out of her bouncer, and pulled her tightly against my chest. Her little body was warm, smelling of baby lotion and soft cotton. She rested her chin on my shoulder, her dark eyes looking around the room in innocent confusion.
"She is five months old," I said, staring straight into my husband's eyes. "Whatever paranoid fever dream you've built up in your head, you do not get to talk about her like she's a fraudulent bill somebody sent to the wrong address."
Russell stood up next, his heavy wooden chair scraping loudly against the hardwood floor. His face was flushed red, and his hands were trembling with anger—not at me, but at his son.
"Nolan," Russell commanded, his deep voice shaking with authority. "Put the phone back on the table. Sit down and speak to your wife like a human being."
"If you want to defend her betrayal, Dad, that's your choice," Nolan hissed, backing away from the table.
"I'm not defending a betrayal! I'm defending three helpless infants and the integrity of this family!" Russell shouted, stepping toward his son. "You are acting like a coward!"
Lenora finally moved, reaching out to catch Nolan's wrist. "Nolan, darling... perhaps everyone just needs some space right now. Let's not make a scene."
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"I'm not making a scene," Nolan said, pulling his arm away from his mother. He looked at me one last time, his eyes cold, empty, and distant. "I'm leaving."
He turned on his heel and walked toward the staircase.
