CHAPTER 2 — THE DNA THAT LIED
CHAPTER 2 — THE DNA THAT LIED
The words on the screen refused to disappear.
BIOLOGICAL FATHER: LUKA MORETTI.
I stared at them until my eyes began to hurt.
Then I looked at Luka.
He didn't look surprised.
That frightened me more than the result itself.
“You knew.”
His jaw tightened.
“I suspected.”
“You suspected you were the father of my child?”
“No.”
He stepped closer to the screen.
“I suspected they would make the system say that.”
I shook my head.
“That's impossible.”
“Is it?”
I looked at the document again.
The laboratory code was printed beneath the result.
M-17.
The same designation that had appeared on the file the hospital claimed didn't exist.
My daughter slept peacefully in the bassinet beside me, completely unaware that adults were fighting over information contained in her blood.
I picked up the report.
“This says you are her biological father.”
Luka nodded.
“I can read.”
“Then explain it.”
“I can't.”
I stared at him.
“You're the one who brought me here.”
“No.”
“You signed her birth certificate.”
“Yes.”
“You knew about M-17.”
“Yes.”
“And now you're telling me you don't know why your DNA is on my daughter's report?”
He looked directly at me.
“I'm telling you that the result is a lie.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“You shouldn't.”
His answer stopped me.
Luka pulled out his phone.
“Don't believe me.”
He placed it on the table.
“Believe the evidence.”
He opened a file.
A photograph appeared.
It was a laboratory sample.
Two vials.
One labeled:
M-17A
The other:
M-17B
“What am I looking at?”
“Your daughter's samples.”
My stomach tightened.
“Why do you have them?”
“I don't.”
He enlarged the image.
“Someone accessed the hospital laboratory before the test was completed.”
I frowned.
“How do you know?”
“Because the original sample number was different.”
He pointed to the bottom corner.
“This is the number assigned when your daughter was born.”
Then he showed me another image.
“This is the number assigned after the test.”
The numbers were different.
I looked at him.
“Someone replaced the sample.”
“Yes.”
My hands became cold.
“Then whose DNA was tested?”
“We don't know.”
“But the report says yours.”
“Exactly.”
I looked toward my daughter.
“So they deliberately made it look like you were her father.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Luka didn't answer.
He stared at the screen.
Then said:
“To make everyone look in the wrong direction.”
The hospital administrator arrived twenty minutes later.
Her name was Mrs. Caldwell.
She entered the room with two security officers.
Her face was pale.
“Mrs. Vale.”
I sat straighter.
“What happened to my daughter's records?”
She hesitated.
“What do you mean?”
I placed the DNA report on the table.
“This.”
Her eyes moved toward it.
She froze.
Luka stood behind me.
“Tell her.”
Mrs. Caldwell looked at him.
“You shouldn't be here.”
“You know exactly why I am.”
She swallowed.
Then looked at me.
“Your daughter's original test was never completed.”
“What?”
“The laboratory reported a system failure.”
“Then how was this report created?”
She didn't answer.
I stood.
“You told me my baby's records were safe.”
“They are.”
“No.”
My voice shook.
“They aren't.”
Mrs. Caldwell lowered her eyes.
“There was an unauthorized access.”
“When?”
“Shortly after the birth.”
“Who accessed them?”
“We don't know.”
Luka laughed quietly.
“You always know.”
The administrator looked at him.
“You don't understand how serious this is.”
“I understand perfectly.”
He stepped closer.
“Who had access?”
She hesitated.
Then whispered:
“Four people.”
“Names.”
“The attending doctor.”
“Dr. Reed?”
“Yes.”
“The laboratory technician.”
“Who else?”
“The hospital administrator.”
Mrs. Caldwell swallowed.
“And the fourth?”
She looked at me.
“Your husband.”
My heart stopped.
Ethan.
Of course.
I closed my eyes.
Suddenly every strange moment from the past year returned.
The questions.
The appointments.
The medical records.
The way Ethan had insisted on attending every prenatal test.
The way he became unusually nervous whenever doctors mentioned genetics.
The way he had asked whether our daughter would inherit my blood type.
At the time, I had thought he was simply worried.
Now I understood.
He hadn't been worried.
He had been monitoring.
I whispered:
“Where is he?”
Mrs. Caldwell looked uncomfortable.
“He left the hospital.”
“I know.”
“He requested access to the neonatal records before leaving.”
My hands clenched.
“When?”
“About thirty minutes after the birth.”
Luka's expression hardened.
“What did he take?”
“Nothing.”
“Don't lie.”
The administrator looked at me.
“He didn't take a physical file.”
“What did he do?”
“He accessed the database.”
Luka looked at me.
“Digitally.”
Mrs. Caldwell nodded.
“He changed something.”
“What?”
She didn't answer.
I stepped forward.
“Tell me.”
“He changed the father identification field.”
My breathing stopped.
“What did he put?”
Mrs. Caldwell looked toward Luka.
Then back at me.
“Nothing.”
“What?”
“He deleted your husband's name.”
I stared.
“Why?”
“We don't know.”
Luka answered quietly.
“Because he never intended to claim the child.”
A nurse rushed into the room.
“Mrs. Caldwell.”
The administrator turned.
“What?”
“We found another record.”
She handed her a tablet.
Mrs. Caldwell read it.
Her face changed.
“What?”
She looked at me.
“There was a second genetic test.”
“When?”
“Before the birth.”
I frowned.
“That wasn't done.”
“Yes, it was.”
“By whom?”
She turned the tablet around.
The patient's name was mine.
The date was six weeks before my delivery.
The test had been ordered under Ethan's account.
I stared at the screen.
“What does it say?”
Mrs. Caldwell hesitated.
“It's incomplete.”
“Read it.”
She swallowed.
“Maternal markers…”
She paused.
“Compatible.”
“And the father?”
Her eyes moved downward.
“Not Ethan.”
I felt the room tilt.
“What?”
She continued reading.
“Biological paternal sample…”
She stopped.
“What?”
“Unavailable.”
“Then how did they determine the result?”
“They didn't.”
I stared at the screen.
“Then why does the report say Luka?”
Nobody answered.
Because suddenly we all knew.
Someone had manufactured the result.
Luka walked to the window.
“It's a diversion.”
I looked at him.
“What is?”
“They want everyone to believe I'm the father.”
“Why?”
“Because my name scares people.”
I frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“My family has enemies.”
“So does mine.”
“Yes.”
He looked at me.
“And that's why they chose me.”
I didn't understand.
“Explain.”
“Years ago, M-17 tried to use my DNA.”
“For what?”
“To create a genetic match.”
“For whom?”
Luka's expression darkened.
“Your father.”
I stared.
“My father?”
“Yes.”
I remembered the photograph.
My father.
Luka.
The laboratory.
The babies.
“What was your relationship with my father?”
“He saved my life.”
“How?”
“I was one of the children they experimented on.”
My throat tightened.
“You were a child?”
“Yes.”
“How old?”
“Seven.”
I looked at his tattooed hands.
Suddenly they didn't look threatening anymore.
They looked like evidence.
Scars disguised as ink.
“What did they do to you?”
He looked away.
“Nothing you need to know.”
“I need to know everything.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because some truths don't make you stronger.”
He looked back at me.
“They only give you nightmares.”
A scream came from the hallway.
We all turned.
A nurse ran past the room.
Then another.
Security officers rushed toward the elevator.
Luka immediately moved.
“Stay here.”
“Why?”
“Someone is leaving.”
He disappeared into the corridor.
I stood frozen.
Then I heard shouting.
A man's voice.
“Let me go!”
Ethan.
I ran toward the hallway.
Two security officers had him pinned against the wall.
His shirt was wrinkled.
His face was pale.
And he was holding a small black drive.
I stopped.
“What is that?”
Ethan looked at me.
For the first time since he left me, I saw fear in his eyes.
“Give it to me,” Luka said.
Ethan laughed.
“You have no idea what you're doing.”
Luka stepped forward.
“I know exactly what I'm doing.”
Ethan looked at me.
“You have to listen to me.”
I stared at him.
“You abandoned your wife and newborn daughter.”
“I was protecting you.”
“You walked out with Sabrina.”
“I had no choice.”
“You had every choice.”
He shook his head.
“You don't understand.”
“Then explain.”
Ethan looked toward Luka.
“Not in front of him.”
I laughed bitterly.
“You're the one who signed my daughter's medical records behind my back.”
“I didn't change the DNA.”
“Then who did?”
He said nothing.
“Who?”
Ethan closed his eyes.
Then whispered:
“Your father.”
I froze.
“My father is dead.”
“No.”
Ethan looked at me.
“He's not.”
The hallway disappeared.
For a moment, I couldn't hear anything.
My father.
Alive.
Impossible.
I had watched the funeral.
I had touched the coffin.
I had cried until I couldn't breathe.
“You're lying.”
Ethan shook his head.
“He was alive when you married me.”
I stepped backward.
“Why would you say that?”
“Because it's true.”
“Then where is he?”
Ethan looked toward the black drive in his hand.
“Here.”
Luka's expression changed.
“Give me the drive.”
Ethan refused.
“It's the only thing keeping her alive.”
I looked at him.
“Who?”
He looked directly at me.
“Your mother.”
The world went silent.
My mother.
The woman I had believed died when I was six.
The woman whose photograph my father had kept hidden.
The woman Luka had just told me might still be alive.
I couldn't breathe.
“Where is she?”
Ethan swallowed.
“I don't know.”
“You're lying.”
“I swear.”
“Then why do you have the drive?”
“Because your father sent it to me.”
“When?”
“Three days ago.”
“Why?”
Ethan's eyes filled with tears.
“Because he knew M-17 had found you.”
I stared at him.
“And you still left.”
He looked away.
“I was scared.”
The honesty hurt more than another lie would have.
“You were scared.”
“Yes.”
“So you abandoned your wife and daughter.”
“I thought if I left…”
He couldn't finish.
“If you left, what?”
“They'd leave you alone.”
I shook my head.
“They didn't.”
“No.”
He looked at Luka.
“They sent him.”
Luka's expression was unreadable.
I turned toward him.
“Is that true?”
Luka didn't answer.
“Luka?”
He finally spoke.
“I wasn't sent to hurt you.”
“Then why did you come?”
“To protect you.”
“From whom?”
He looked at Ethan.
“From everyone.”
The black drive was taken to a secure room.
An encrypted laptop was brought in.
Luka inserted the drive.
One folder appeared.
M-17 / VALE FAMILY / FINAL ARCHIVE
My hands shook.
The folder contained dozens of files.
Most were encrypted.
One wasn't.
A video.
I pressed play.
Static.
Then a familiar voice.
My father's voice.
I hadn't heard it in years.
“Hello, Elena.”
I stopped breathing.
“If you're watching this, I'm probably dead.”
My eyes filled with tears.
“But if you're watching this and you're still alive…”
He paused.
“…then I failed to keep you away from them.”
The video continued.
“M-17 is not a medical program.”
A photograph appeared.
My childhood photograph.
Then another.
My mother.
Then another.
Luka.
Then another.
Ethan.
I covered my mouth.
My father continued:
“They don't want your daughter because she is special.”
The screen went black.
Then one sentence appeared.
THEY WANT HER BECAUSE OF WHO HER FATHER IS.
I looked at Luka.
Then Ethan.
Neither man spoke.
The video resumed.
My father's final words were barely audible.
“Do not trust the DNA.”
I stared at the screen.
“Do not trust the birth certificate.”
Another pause.
“And above all…”
My father's voice broke.
“Do not trust the man who claims to be your daughter's father.”
The screen went black.
Nobody moved.
Then a new file appeared automatically.
PATERNITY — ORIGINAL SAMPLE
Luka stared at it.
Ethan stepped backward.
I reached for the mouse.
“What is this?”
Luka's voice was quiet.
“Elena…”
I clicked.
The report opened.
One name appeared.
Not Luka.
Not Ethan.
Not any man I recognized.
Just one designation:
M-17 / SUBJECT ZERO.
Then, beneath it:
BIOLOGICAL FATHER: CONFIDENTIAL.
I stared at the screen.
“Who is Subject Zero?”
Luka didn't answer.
Ethan looked terrified.
And then the hospital lights suddenly went out.
The emergency system activated.
A red alarm began flashing.
Somewhere down the corridor, glass shattered.
Luka immediately grabbed my arm.
“Stay behind me.”
“What happened?”
He looked toward the door.
“They found us.”
“Who?”
He pulled a weapon from beneath his jacket.
For the first time, I saw something completely different in his eyes.
Not fear.
Recognition.
“They're here for the baby.”
I pulled my daughter into my arms.
Then, from the darkness outside the room, a man's voice spoke.
Calm.
Almost gentle.
“Luka.”
Luka froze.
The voice continued.
“You've had enough time.”
A pause.
“Bring me my granddaughter.”
I looked at Luka.
His face had gone completely white.
“Who is that?”
He didn't answer.
The voice came again.
“Ethan.”
My ex-husband looked toward the door.
The man outside laughed softly.
“Tell Elena who I am.”
Ethan's lips trembled.
Then he whispered the words that shattered everything I thought I knew about my family.
“That's your father.”
May you like
The door handle began to turn.
And my dead father was about to walk into the room.
