Chapter 4 - The Blood Right
The court-certified forensic DNA results arrived four days later in a sealed manila envelope delivered directly to Sofia’s office.
Sofia opened the document in front of Adrian and me in the mansion’s library.
She turned to the final page and read the bolded conclusion aloud:
PROBABILITY OF PATERNITY: 99.9998%. ETHAN EDWARD VALE IS CONFIRMED AS THE BIOLOGICAL FATHER OF NOAH VALE.
A profound sense of relief washed over me, so intense that I slumped back into the leather chair, letting out a long, shuddering breath.
“It’s official,” Sofia said, tapping the paper. “He cannot deny it anymore. Legally, biologically, and financially, Noah is his son.”
Adrian stood up from his desk, his expression focused and sharp.
“Now, Sofia,” Adrian commanded. “Call the press conference.”
At two o’clock that afternoon, Sofia organized a formal press conference in the main auditorium of the city’s central legal center.
Over fifty journalists, television news crews, and high-society reporters packed into the room, eager for the latest update on the scandalous high-profile divorce.
I walked out onto the stage wearing a simple, elegant black dress, my hair pulled back neatly. I carried no luxury bags, wore no flashy jewelry, and carried myself with quiet, calm dignity.
Adrian did not join me on stage. He stood out of camera range in the dark wings of the auditorium, watching silently over the room.
Sofia stepped up to the podium first.
“Good afternoon,” Sofia announced, her voice echoing clearly through the microphones. “Over the past two weeks, my client, Mrs. Lily Vale, has been subjected to a malicious, coordinated character assassination campaign orchestrated by her husband, Ethan Vale, and his mother, Margaret Vale.”
The cameras flashed rapidly.
Sofia held up the certified court document.
“I have in my hands the official, court-mandated DNA test results conducted by the State Forensic Institute. The results are absolute: Ethan Vale is 99.9998% confirmed as the biological father of baby Noah.”
Gasps erupted across the reporter pool. Reporters began frantically typing on their laptops and phones.
Sofia stepped aside and motioned for me to approach the microphone.
I stepped forward, leaning into the mic. The room fell into complete silence.
“Four weeks ago,” I began, my voice steady and clear, “I gave birth to my son after fourteen hours of labor. The moment my husband looked at our baby, he claimed the child was not his simply because of his eye color.”
I paused, looking directly into the primary television camera lens.
“Three days later, when I was discharged from the hospital bleeding and barely able to walk, my husband and his mother threw me and my newborn baby out into a severe storm. They froze my personal bank accounts, threw my personal belongings into the mud, and locked the gates.”
The reporters were completely frozen, hanging on every word.
“They did this,” I continued, “because Ethan Vale wanted to abandon his family to pursue an advantageous relationship with Ms. Vanessa Morgan. They fabricated an affair and a paternity scandal to justify their cruelty.”
I lifted my head high.
“The court-certified DNA test speaks for itself. My reputation is cleared. My son’s identity is undisputed. Every further detail will be handled in a court of law. Thank you.”
I turned and walked off the stage, ignoring the sudden storm of shouting reporters that erupted behind me.
By that evening, the public narrative exploded in the opposite direction.
The news outlets flipped overnight.
Viral videos circulated across social media, comparing Ethan’s tearful interview from two days ago with the certified forensic lab results.
Public outrage was swift and brutal.
The Vale family was torn apart in the comment sections. Thousands of people demanded that Ethan be fired from his corporate job for abandoning a newborn in a storm.
By midnight, Ethan’s company released a short, panic-stricken statement: “Mr. Ethan Vale has been placed on indefinite unpaid administrative leave pending an internal executive investigation.”
At two in the morning, Ethan issued a desperate, poorly written statement through his lawyer, claiming he had been ‘misinformed by unreliable private medical consultants’ and expressed deep regret for the ‘emotional misunderstanding.’
Margaret Vale released a brief message claiming she suffered from ‘post-birth confusion and heightened anxiety.’
Vanessa Morgan remained entirely silent, scrubbing all references to Ethan from her public social media profiles.
Sitting in the quiet study of the Moretti estate, I raised a glass of sparkling water toward Adrian.
“We won the first battle,” I said, feeling a sense of quiet triumph.
Adrian was standing near the grand window, looking out over the illuminated gardens. He took a slow sip of his whiskey and turned back to face me.
“This was not a battle, Lily,” he said quietly. “This was merely clearing the trash off the driveway.”
I blinked. “What do you mean?”
“You have proven your innocence to the public,” Adrian explained, walking toward the desk. “Ethan is humiliated, and Margaret is disgraced in her social circles. But they still have their estate, and Vanessa Morgan’s father still has his multi-million dollar business empire.”
He leaned over the mahogany desk, his dark eyes burning with terrifying ambition.
“Now, we begin the real destruction.”
“How?” I asked, leaning in.
“Vanessa’s father, Richard Morgan, is holding a massive thirty-million-dollar charity gala at the Grand Plaza Hotel this Saturday night,” Adrian revealed. “It is the biggest social event of the year. Every wealthy investor, politician, and media mogul in the city will be in that ballroom.”
“Vanessa will be there,” I realized.
“Yes,” Adrian smiled thinly. “And so will Ethan and Margaret. Vanessa’s father invited them weeks ago to announce Ethan’s appointment as Vice President of Morgan Logistics and publicly introduce Ethan as Vanessa’s fiancé.”
“They won't announce that now,” I said. “Not after the DNA scandal.”
“They have to,” Adrian countered. “Richard Morgan has already secured millions in loans based on the expansion of Morgan Logistics. If he backs down now, his investors will panic. He is trapped into going forward with the party.”
Adrian pulled two black-and-gold engraved invitation cards from his pocket and placed them on the desk in front of me.
“We are going to that gala, Lily.”
I looked at the invitation cards, my heart beating faster.
“As your date?”
“As my partner,” Adrian corrected gently. “You will walk into that room not as the broken accountant they threw into the rain, but as the woman who holds the key to their complete downfall.”
I looked down at the gold lettering on the card, feeling a surge of adrenaline coarse through my veins.
“What are we bringing to the party, Adrian?”
Adrian reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a small, sleek black USB flash drive, placing it beside the invitations.
“Seven years ago, Vanessa stole sixty million dollars from my family using offshore shell companies,” Adrian said softly. “My investigators spent the last two weeks tracking those exact shell accounts. Do you know where that stolen money is currently sitting, Lily?”
I looked at the USB drive, the accountant in me instantly putting the pieces together.
May you like
“It’s sitting in Morgan Logistics’ operating capital accounts,” I whispered.
“Precisely,” Adrian grinned, a terrifying, beautiful sight. “Vanessa didn't just steal my money—she used it to finance her father’s entire company. And you, my dear Lily, are going to explain the audit details to the entire room.”
