Chapter 9
How could he explain that the “emergency consultation” involved Vera? Or that when he received the police call, Vera was tugging at his sleeve, wanting to have dinner with him?
“Enough,” my father waved his hand, his tone filled with ultimate disappointment and coldness. “We’ll wait for the police investigation to resolve Grace’s matter. I will use every resource and influence I have to ensure justice is served.”
After speaking, my father turned around, not sparing Aiden another glance: “You, get out now. My daughter needs rest.”
Aiden stood frozen, looking at me lying in the hospital bed with disappointed eyes, looking at my father blocking the bed, and my mother crying uncontrollably
beside us.
Immense regret and fear instantly overwhelmed him. Aiden opened his mouth but made no sound.
The child his mother had indirectly killed was the child he had longed for!
Aiden staggered back one step, then another, finally retreating from my hospital room in complete disarray.
I slowly closed my eyes, ignoring Aiden’s disgusting figure. My tears flowed silently.
This time, it was for the child who could never return.
The hospital room door blocked out all the noise from the corridor. My tears flowed silently for a long time, soaking the pillow and seeming to take away my last bit of strength.
I closed my eyes wearily, exhausted, not even feeling sadness anymore. Mom kept holding my hand tightly, crying silently.
After a long silence, I spoke: “Dad, Mom… we need to do something.”
My father immediately looked up, his expression serious: “What is it?”
I turned my gaze to him: “That child… I need you to take his hair or blood sample. I want to do a paternity test.”
Dad’s eyes widened as he understood my meaning. This wasn’t just about evidence, but about accountability-ensuring Aiden and his mother were held responsible. It was also about restoring dignity to that poor child.
A surge of intense anger and heartbreak welled up. My father nodded firmly: “Don’t worry, I’ll handle it. You rest well.”
With the child about to be induced, tissue sampling wouldn’t be difficult.
The induction surgery was scheduled for that afternoon. Outside the operating room, Aiden sat blankly on the cold bench, staring at the ground with vacant
yes.
The notification of the paternity test request kept flashing through Aiden’s mind. Did I… really doubt him? Or had I reached such a level of hatred that I needed o prove something this way?
Every second of waiting was torment. Finally, the operating room door opened. A nurse wheeled out the surgical bed.
lay on it, eyes closed, my body exhausted. Aiden almost jumped up, rushing to the bedside, his voice trembling and hoarse: “Tina…”
opened my eyes wearily, my gaze not lingering on him-as if Aiden were just a stranger passing by.
My cold stare chilled Aiden to the bone more than any accusation or resentment could.
The nurse spoke: “The surgery went smoothly. She needs to return to the ward for observation and rest, proper nutrition. Family members, please sign to onfirm the surgery and the fetus…”
My father was ready. He stepped forward expressionlessly and, under Aiden’s gaze, signed his name cleanly.
Then he placed a newly printed report beside my bed. The title was clear and cold: Paternity Test Report.
The final conclusion was clear:
Fest Opinion: Based on available materials and DNA analysis results, Sample 2 (Aiden) is supported as the biological father of Sample 1 (fetus).
