Chapter 2
At nine the next morning, the first DNA report arrived.
It stated that Adrian was Mia’s biological father with a probability greater than 99.99 percent.
Charles released a breath. Adrian stared at the printed line. Marcus and Vanessa did not look pleased.
“It’s only an expedited report,” Vanessa said. “We should be careful.”
“We should,” Ethan agreed.
He turned to the final page and pointed at the red seal across its edge. A tiny break cut through the design.
“This lab changed its official seal two years ago. This is the old one.”
Adrian closed the report. “Do it again.”
“Already arranged. Different accredited lab, independent collection team, documented transfer.”
No one knew who had placed an obsolete seal on a report whose conclusion appeared to favor Mia, or why. Ethan refused to guess. Until the second test returned, the first report proved only that someone had interfered with the paperwork.
Outside the study, Mia sat on a small stool with a slice of cake. She had wrapped it in a napkin instead of eating it.
Adrian stopped in front of her. “What are you doing?”
She flinched. “I didn’t steal it. The house manager gave it to me.”
“Why did you wrap it?”
“I’m afraid there won’t be any later.”
He unwrapped the cake and offered it back. “Eat.”
“Will there be more tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“The day after?”
“Yes.”
“And the day after that?”
Adrian crouched until they were eye to eye. “There will be food every day.”
She watched him for a long moment, then took one bite. Cream touched the end of her nose. Adrian raised a hand, uncertain what to do with it, and Mia wiped her face with her sleeve, spreading the cream farther.
“You should learn how children work,” Ethan said from the doorway.
Adrian looked at him. “You’re an expert?”
“No. I just have eyes.”
Charles decided that Mia would remain in the house while the new test and the old records were investigated. He also announced a small family recognition dinner in three days.
“Will there be food?” Mia asked.
“Yes,” Ethan said.
“Then I can go.”
“You don’t have to attend for the food,” Adrian told her.
“Food is important.”
Claire had once said almost the same thing while eating a cold boxed lunch in Adrian’s office. People cannot live on contracts, Adrian. They need dinner too.
He had not listened then.
Now he looked at Mia’s shoes, which were too loose at the heel, and told the house manager to buy slippers, clothes, a toothbrush, and dishes made for a child.
“Everything?” the man asked.
“Everything.”
Ethan turned a page in his file. “Should he buy her a bank card too?”
“What is a bank card?” Mia asked.
Adrian said, “Something that buys formula.”
Her eyes brightened. “Can it buy carrots for my rabbit?”
“Does the rabbit eat carrots?” Ethan asked.
“It used to. Then Mom didn’t have money, so it stopped.”
The old rabbit’s fabric had worn thin along its arms. Adrian looked at it and understood, with sudden shame, that even a toy had gone hungry in Mia’s home.
