Chapter 5 - The Test of Blood
The private clinic on East 68th Street was clinical, silent, and guarded by six private security officers.
Inside the third-floor lab, the machine hummed with a low, rhythmic vibration as it processed three blood samples drawn two hours prior.
Elena sat in the waiting room holding a paper cup of cold water. She had been given a clean dark blue dress by Julian’s assistants, her hair freshly washed and tied in a low ponytail. Across the room, Noah was sitting on a plush leather ottoman, happily drawing dragons in a sketchbook with a set of colored markers Julian had bought him from the gift shop.
"Look, Mommy," Noah said, running over to Elena and setting the sketchbook on her knees. "This dragon has big wings so he can fly over the high walls."
Elena’s heart gave a painful, beautiful leap. Mommy. The word still felt like a dream—a fragile, golden bubble that she was afraid to touch lest it burst.
"He’s very strong, sweetie," Elena said, her fingers gently stroking his cheek, where a small band-aid covered the scrape he had gotten at the gala. "Where is he flying to?"
"To the house with the big trees," Noah said, looking up at her with eyes that were identical to hers. "The house where you live."
The door opened, and Dr. Harrison, the head of genetic medicine at Columbia University, stepped into the room holding a single white folder.
Julian stood up from his chair near the window. His knuckles were white.
"Dr. Harrison?" Julian asked.
The doctor looked at the three of them—the quiet woman, the nervous billionaire, and the little boy playing with markers on the rug.
"The probability of maternity between Elena Vance and Noah Sterling is 99.998 percent," Dr. Harrison announced clearly. "There is zero ambiguity. She is his biological mother."
Elena let out a long, ragged gasp, covering her mouth with both hands as her body shook with silent, overwhelming sobs. Six years of doubt, six years of being told she was crazy, six years of staring at an empty horizon in France—vanished in a single sentence.
Julian dropped to his knees beside her, wrapping his arms around her waist, burying his face against her chest as he wept openly for the first time in his adult life.
"I'm sorry," Julian sobbed into her blue dress. "I'm so sorry I didn't find you sooner... I'm so sorry I let them take him..."
Noah dropped his markers and ran over, throwing his tiny arms around both of their necks, sandwiching himself between his mother and father.
"Don't cry, Daddy," Noah said, his voice small and sweet, his little hand patting Julian’s shoulder. "Mommy’s here now. Nobody’s gonna slap her anymore."
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Outside the glass window of the lab, Arthur Sterling stood watching them. He pulled out his cell phone, canceled the emergency board meeting he had scheduled with the Vance family attorneys, and dialed his chief communications officer.
"Release the full statement to the Associated Press," Arthur ordered, his voice thick with emotion. "And tell the legal team to drop all settlement talks with Victoria Vance. We are going for total annihilation."
