Chapter 10 - 99.9 Percent
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The heavy wooden door to the clinic’s back offices finally clicked open. The lead geneticist emerged, holding a sealed white envelope. He looked incredibly pale, clearly aware of exactly who was sitting in his lobby.
Dominic stood up immediately, closing the distance in three long strides. He snatched the envelope from the doctor's trembling hand without a word of thanks.
I remained seated, resting a hand on Noah’s shoulder. I already knew the truth.
Dominic ripped the envelope open, pulling out the thick stack of premium medical paper. The lobby was completely silent, save for the sound of Clare quietly humming to herself. Dominic's dark eyes scanned the dense medical jargon, flipping rapidly to the final page where the summary was printed in bold black ink.
Probability of Paternity: 99.999%.
Dominic stopped breathing. The paper shook violently in his massive hands.
He stared at the numbers as if they were written in an alien language. Six years of his life, his divorce, his new marriage, his entire reality had just been obliterated by a single sheet of paper.
He slowly lowered the document, his eyes locking onto mine. The cold, arrogant mafia boss was entirely gone. In his place was a man violently unmoored.
"They're mine," he whispered. The words sounded like they had been torn from his throat.
"Yes," I said calmly. "They are."
Suddenly, the possessive, lethal instinct that defined the Gallow family surged to the surface. Dominic looked at the four children coloring on the floor. His heirs. His blood.
He pulled out his phone, dialing a number rapidly.
"Silvio," Dominic barked into the receiver, his voice echoing loudly in the sterile clinic. "Call the contractors. I want the entire east wing of the estate renovated by tomorrow. Childproofed. Hire a full-time security detail, tier one exclusively. Clear my schedule for the next month."
I stood up, my blood running completely cold.
"Dominic," I said sharply.
May you like
He hung up the phone, looking at me with a dangerous, territorial gleam in his eyes. "We are leaving. My cars are out front. You and the children are coming to the estate."
"No," I replied, crossing my arms. "We aren't going anywhere with you."
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