Chapter 2 - The Denial
The silence in the conference room was heavy, a physical weight pressing against the glass walls of the high-rise suite. Ryan’s laughter was brittle, a sharp, jagged sound that shattered the tension but did nothing to ease it. He picked up the DNA report from the mahogany table, his fingers tapping an erratic rhythm against the paper.
"A forgery," Ryan spat, his voice dripping with venom. He tossed the document back onto the table with a careless flick. "You think I haven't hired the best forensic experts in the country to tear this apart? It’s a sick joke, Claire. A delusion born of postpartum psychosis."
He leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking, his posture relaxed, predatory. Beside him, Vanessa let out a long, shuddering breath. She reached out to cover Ryan’s hand with hers, her fingers trembling slightly as she smoothed the fabric of his suit jacket. Relief washed over her face, a stark contrast to the terror she had shown moments ago. She looked at Claire with pity, her eyes darting to the sleeping baby in the carrier, then back to her husband.
"It’s impossible," Ryan continued, addressing the two silent lawyers who sat at the end of the table. "Claire is unstable. She’s trying to sabotage this divorce to keep me tied down. She’s desperate." He turned to Claire, a sneer twisting his lips. "Sign the papers, Claire. Give me full custody, and I’ll make this go away. I won't mention your little game to the judge."
Vanessa nodded vigorously, her eyes wide with agreement. "Please, Claire," she whispered, her voice thick with feigned concern. "Just sign. We want what’s best for Noah."
Claire didn't blink. She didn't look at the papers, nor did she look at Vanessa. She kept her gaze locked on Ryan’s face, her expression unreadable, a mask of porcelain calm. She reached into the black folder she had been clutching against her chest and pulled out a single, thin sheet of paper. She slid it across the table, stopping it just inches from Ryan’s hand.
"Forgery?" Claire said softly. "Then explain this."
Ryan scoffed, reaching for the document. But as his eyes scanned the page, the sneer vanished. His hand froze in mid-air. The color drained from his face, leaving him looking gray and sickly.
The lawyers leaned forward, their pens hovering over their pads, confused by the sudden shift in the room's temperature. Ryan’s throat worked, a dry, swallowing motion, but no sound came out.
"Ryan?" Claire’s voice was a low, dangerous hum. "Your medical records from the fertility clinic in Chicago. The one you visited six months ago. It says you’re sterile. It says you’ve been infertile since the accident in '19."
Ryan’s chair scraped backward against the floor, the sound harsh and loud. He looked at the lawyers, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. "It's a mistake," he stammered, his voice cracking. "It's a clerical error."
Vanessa let go of Ryan’s hand. Her eyes widened, darting frantically between Claire and the paper. She reached for her water glass, her hand shaking so violently that the liquid inside sloshed over the rim. She didn't notice.
*Clatter.*
The glass hit the floor, shattering into jagged shards that scattered across the pristine carpet. The silence returned, heavier and more suffocating than before.
Ryan stood up, swaying slightly. He looked at Claire, his eyes wild, his face drained of all blood. "You... you knew," he hissed. "You went through my files."
"I wanted to know who my son's father was," Claire said, her voice cold and flat. "I didn't expect to find out the truth was so... convenient for you."
Ryan’s face crumbled, the arrogance shattering like glass. He slumped back into his chair, defeated. He looked at Vanessa, pleading for help, but she was staring at the floor, her hand resting protectively on her own belly.
"It wasn't a mistake," Ryan whispered, his voice barely audible. "I didn't go to the clinic for myself."
"Then who?" Claire asked, leaning forward, her eyes narrowing.
May you like
Ryan closed his eyes, a tear cutting a tracks through the dust on his cheek. "I didn't go for a surrogate," he admitted, his voice trembling. "I went... for her."
"Who?"
