Chapter 6 - THE TEST
The paternity test happened the next morning in Maya’s office.
No private family doctors.
No Romano clinic.
No Moretti laboratory.
A technician from an accredited independent provider arrived with sealed kits, photographed identification, recorded consent, and documented every transfer.
Dominic gave his sample first.
Lily hated the cheek swab.
She crossed her arms, frowned at the technician, and announced, “Mommy says doctors are sneaky.”
Nobody in the room knew how to answer that.
Dominic crouched in front of her.
“This one isn’t sneaky.”
Lily looked at him suspiciously.
“How do you know?”
He gave a sad smile.
“Because Ms. Maya is watching everybody.”
That convinced her.
After the samples were sealed, Lily received a sticker shaped like a tiger and immediately placed it on Dominic’s sleeve.
He stared at it.
His eyes shone.
He didn’t remove it.
The results would take two days.
Two days.
Forty-eight hours to determine whether a four-year lie had been built around a real biological connection.
I had negotiated billion-dollar acquisitions with less tension.
After the technician left, Maya took Dominic into the conference room to discuss the trust.
I stayed with Lily in her office.
She sat beneath the window lining up crayons by size.
“Mr. Adrian?”
“Yes?”
“Is Mr. Dominic my grandpa?”
I looked at her.
“No.”
“Rosa said he’s Miss Vanessa’s daddy.”
“That’s true.”
“So is he my daddy?”
Children had a way of crossing minefields by simply walking straight through them.
“We’re trying to find out.”
“Why doesn’t he know?”
I thought of every complicated answer.
None belonged to her.
“Sometimes grown-ups hide things they shouldn’t.”
“Mommy hid birthday presents.”
“That’s a good kind of hiding.”
“And broccoli.”
I smiled despite myself.
“Also acceptable.”
She considered that.
“If he’s my daddy, does he live with us?”
“No.”
“Does he come for pancakes?”
“If you want him to.”
She seemed satisfied.
I wasn’t.
My phone buzzed.
A text from an unknown number.
YOU’RE MAKING A PRIVATE FAMILY MATTER PUBLIC.
Then another.
CLAIRE UNDERSTOOD THE CONSEQUENCES. YOU SHOULD TOO.
I showed Maya.
She immediately told me not to respond.
Dominic read the messages and went pale.
“Martin,” he said.
“You sure?” I asked.
“No.”
Maya took the phone.
“Then don’t guess.”
She had become the only person in my orbit who consistently refused to let anger outrun evidence.
I needed that.
Especially because every instinct I had wanted Martin Shaw dragged into a room and made to explain four years of lies.
Instead, Maya sent the messages to a digital forensics consultant.
An hour later, she received a call.
The burner phone Emily brought had been preserved well enough to recover deleted threads.
One thread contained forty-seven messages between Claire and a number linked to a prepaid account.
Several referred to Dominic by initials.
One referred to Vanessa by name.
The messages were ugly.
Do not call D.R.
The child does not create rights you can enforce without consequences.
Ms. Romano has been more patient than most people would be.
Take the agreement.
Move on.
Claire’s responses were equally clear.
I do not want money.
I want him to know.
Stop coming to my home.
Then, one message changed everything.
C: If Dominic does not want Lily, have him tell me himself.
Reply:
M.S.: He already did.
The timestamp matched the week Claire received the forged handwritten note.
Maya stared at the screen.
“That message alone does not prove Martin forged the note.”
Dominic’s hands clenched.
“It proves he lied to her.”
“Yes.”
“And to me.”
“Likely.”
“There is no likely.”
Maya looked at him.
“There is always a likely until evidence becomes proof.”
Dominic turned away.
I understood his frustration.
But I also understood Maya’s discipline.
Powerful families survived scandal by turning emotional accusations into defamation suits.
We needed facts.
Not fury.
At noon, another fact arrived.
Dr. Park called.
The hospital’s electronic audit showed Claire’s disputed medication order had been entered under Keller’s credentials.
It had then been canceled from a terminal on another floor.
The pharmacy log showed the medication was dispensed.
The nursing administration record had a blank field.
Not administered.
Not refused.
Blank.
“What does blank mean?” I asked.
“It means the documentation is incomplete,” Dr. Park said. “It does not tell us whether Claire received it.”
“Can the hospital tell who accessed the chart?”
“Yes. I requested the log.”
Maya leaned toward the phone.
“Preserve everything.”
“I already asked them to.”
For the first time that day, I felt something like momentum.
Then Vincent entered.
His face told me it was bad before he spoke.
“We have a breach.”
I stood.
“Where?”
“Your home network.”
Maya looked up sharply.
“When?”
“Last night and early this morning. Someone accessed archived security footage.”
“From outside?”
“No.”
My stomach turned.
“Inside?”
“Credentials belonged to household administration.”
“Whose?”
“Claire’s old staff account.”
“That account should have been disabled.”
“It was.”
“So how was it used?”
“Someone reactivated it.”
Maya closed her laptop.
“Who had permission?”
Vincent hesitated.
I hated hesitation now.
“Vincent.”
“Three people. Me, the systems manager, and you.”
I stared at him.
“I didn’t do it.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
He looked tired.
“I can prove I was physically in the security room during one of the access times.”
“Then the systems manager?”
“He’s missing.”
That word chilled the room.
“Missing?”
“He didn’t report this morning. Phone off. Apartment empty.”
“What’s his name?”
“Evan Cole.”
I knew Evan.
Quiet.
Thirty.
Had worked for us two years.
“What footage was accessed?”
Vincent handed me a list.
Claire’s hallway.
East garage.
Kitchen corridor.
Guest entrance.
Specific dates.
All within the last six months.
One date caught my eye.
The night Claire collapsed.
I looked at Vincent.
“Was there footage?”
“There should be.”
“Should?”
“It’s been deleted.”
The room went silent.
Maya stood.
“Call the police.”
Dominic looked at her.
“Now?”
“Yes. Now.”
I picked up my phone.
Before I could dial, Vincent’s rang.
He answered.
His face changed.
“What?”
A pause.
Then, “Send it to me.”
He ended the call.
“What happened?” I asked.
“One of our gate cameras caught Evan Cole leaving the property last night.”
“And?”
“He wasn’t alone.”
Vincent looked at Dominic.
“He left in a Romano vehicle.”
Dominic went pale.
“Whose?”
Vincent turned the phone toward us.
The image was grainy but clear enough.
A black SUV.
Romano Foundation plates.
The driver’s door open.
A woman standing beside it.
Vanessa.
Dominic sat down hard.
“No.”
I stared at the photograph.
Vanessa had told me she didn’t know what happened to the paternity result.
She had claimed Martin handled everything.
She had acted shocked by Claire’s evidence.
Now she was on camera with the man who had accessed and deleted footage from the night Claire died.
Maya’s voice was quiet.
“This still doesn’t prove she harmed Claire.”
Dominic looked at her.
“Stop saying that.”
“I will stop when we have proof.”
He buried his face in his hands.
I felt no satisfaction.
Only grief.
For Claire.
For Lily.
Even for Dominic.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
A man’s voice.
“Mr. Moretti?”
“Yes.”
“This is Evan Cole.”
Every person in the room froze.
“Where are you?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Are you with Vanessa?”
“No.”
“Were you with her last night?”
A long silence.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“She paid me.”
Dominic stood.
“For what?” I asked.
“To erase something.”
My grip tightened.
“What?”
“Video from the night Claire Bennett died.”
Maya moved closer, silently signaling me to keep him talking.
“Why would Vanessa want that deleted?”
“Because she was there.”
The room stopped breathing.
“Where?”
“Your house.”
“That’s impossible. Claire collapsed at her apartment.”
“No.”
I looked at Maya.
“What did you say?”
Evan’s voice shook.
“Claire didn’t collapse at her apartment.”
My chest tightened.
“She collapsed at your house.”
Everything inside me went cold.
“That night, around ten thirty. Kitchen corridor. Vanessa was with her.”
“Then why does the hospital record say she came from home?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where is the footage?”
“Deleted.”
“Backups?”
Another pause.
“I copied one.”
Maya’s eyes widened.
“Where are you?”
“I said I can’t tell you.”
“If Vanessa paid you, why are you calling me?”
“Because she didn’t tell me what was on the video until after I took the money.”
“What’s on it?”
His breathing became ragged.
“You need to see it.”
“Send it.”
“I can’t. Not electronically.”
“Then tell me.”
“I saw Claire arguing with Vanessa. Then Dr. Keller came into the hall.”
Dominic grabbed the desk.
I said nothing.
Evan continued.
“Claire looked sick. She tried to walk away. Keller caught her.”
“And Vanessa?”
“She was crying.”
“Crying?”
“Yes.”
“Then what?”
“Claire collapsed.”
The silence after that felt endless.
“Did Keller give her anything?”
“I couldn’t see.”
“Did Vanessa touch her?”
“No.”
“What happened to Claire after she collapsed?”
“They called a car.”
“An ambulance?”
“No.”
I closed my eyes.
“Whose car?”
“A private medical transport.”
Maya mouthed one word.
Record.
I switched the call to speaker and started a secure recording through her device.
“Evan, where is the copy?”
“In a locker.”
“What locker?”
“I’ll send you the number.”
“Come in.”
“No.”
“You are safer with us than alone.”
A bitter laugh.
“You people are the reason I’m not safe.”
The line went dead.
Ten seconds later, a message arrived.
A photograph.
Locker 118.
Grand Central Terminal.
Maya grabbed her coat.
“No one goes alone.”
Dominic reached for his.
“You are not coming.”
“The hell I’m not.”
Lily appeared in the doorway.
We all stopped.
She held the stuffed rabbit.
“Why is everybody mad?”
Dominic looked at her.
The tiger sticker still clung to his sleeve.
His face softened instantly.
“No one is mad at you, sweetheart.”
She stared at him.
Then walked across the room and took his hand.
He looked down at her tiny fingers wrapped around his.
For the first time since I had met Dominic Romano, he looked helpless.
And that was when I realized the test result might not matter as much as I thought.
He already wanted to be her father.
The question was whether someone had killed Claire to make sure he never got the chance.
After Evan’s call, Maya forced all of us to stop moving for five minutes.
It sounded ridiculous.
It was necessary.
Dominic wanted to go to Grand Central himself.
Vincent wanted to send a team.
I wanted to do both.
Maya said no.
“We have a live witness, possible evidence tampering, and a potentially compromised security system. Nobody improvises.”
Dominic paced.
“You enjoy saying that.”
“I enjoy not explaining to judges why rich men contaminated evidence because they watch too many movies.”
Vincent almost smiled.
I did not.
“Who do you trust to retrieve the locker?”
“The police.”
Dominic groaned.
Maya looked at him.
“You hired federal prosecutors for twenty years when it suited you.”
“That was business.”
“This is a child.”
He stopped.
That ended the argument.
While we waited for detectives, Lily wandered in carrying two toy animals.
She placed one in front of Dominic.
“This is yours.”
He looked down.
A plastic lion.
“Why?”
“Because you’re loud.”
Maya covered a smile.
Dominic looked offended.
“I am not loud.”
Everyone in the room stared at him.
Lily nodded wisely.
“See?”
He accepted the lion.
She gave me a plastic turtle.
“And this is you.”
“Why?”
“You’re slow.”
Vincent laughed out loud.
For three seconds, all the adults forgot we were afraid.
That might have been Claire’s greatest gift.
Lily did not understand power structures.
She did not care about trusts, paternity, or corporate alliances.
She knew who made pancakes.
Who read stories.
Who kept promises.
Who raised their voice.
Who came back.
Maybe that was why powerful people found children dangerous.
Children judge the world using standards adults spend fortunes trying to escape.
When detectives finally left to retrieve the locker, Dominic still held the toy lion.
He slipped it into his coat pocket.
I pretended not to notice.
Maya noticed.
She notices everything.
“Whatever the test says,” she told him quietly, “do not make Lily responsible for your feelings.”
Dominic frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“If she is your daughter, you will be overwhelmed. You will want closeness immediately. She may not.”
His face tightened.
“I would never pressure her.”
“Good. Then remember that when she calls Adrian at night instead of you.”
He looked at me.
The rivalry arrived before either of us wanted it.
Maya saw that too.
“Exactly,” she said.
Dominic exhaled.
“I hate lawyers.”
“You pay enough of us.”
“Apparently too many.”
May you like
That was the first joke any of us made about Martin Shaw.
No one laughed for long.
