Chapter 4 - The Truth in the Blood
The private medical wing on the lower level of the Sterling Estate looked like something out of a futuristic research laboratory. White marble floors, state-of-the-art diagnostic machines, and a quiet, sterile smell that made Elina’s stomach churn.
She sat on the edge of an examination table, wearing a cashmere sweater that Dante’s head housekeeper, Mrs. Gable, had given her to replace her stained server’s apron. Leo was sitting in a custom leather crib beside her, happily banging a wooden rattle against the plush mattress while keeping his big hazel eyes locked on Elina.
A tall doctor in his late fifties, Dr. Vance, walked back into the room holding a clear plastic folder. His face was pale, his hands trembling slightly as he pulled out a stack of paper.
Dante stood near the door, his arms crossed over his chest, his expression unreadable.
"Well?" Dante asked.
Dr. Vance swallowed hard, looking between Dante and Elina. "Dante... I ran the DNA swab three times. I thought the sequencer was malfunctioning, so I used the secondary machine in the East Wing."
"Spit it out, Marcus," Dante said, his voice dropping an octave into a dangerous key.
"It’s... it’s impossible," Dr. Vance whispered. He held up the printed genetic profile. "The maternal markers matched. One hundred percent."
Elina frowned, looking between the two men. "What does that mean? What are maternal markers?"
Dr. Vance turned his gaze onto Elina, his eyes filled with a mixture of terror and awe.
"It means, Miss Valdez... you aren't just a lookalike. You aren't Sophia's twin sister."
The room seemed to lose all sound. Elina’s lungs froze.
"You are Leo’s biological mother."
Elina let out a sharp, hysterical laugh. "That’s crazy! That’s impossible! I’ve never seen Mr. Sterling before tonight! I gave birth to... I mean, I was in an accident ten months ago! The doctors told me I wasn't pregnant! They told me I suffered a hemorrhage!"
Dante stepped forward, his body rigid, his eyes burning with a dark, terrifying flame. "What hospital, Elina?"
"What?"
"What hospital were you taken to after your accident ten months ago?!" Dante roared, his voice shaking the glass cabinets in the room.
"St. Jude’s Memorial!" Elina cried out, tears spilling over her lashes. "On 8th Avenue! A private ambulance picked me up off the street!"
Dr. Vance dropped the folder onto the silver tray. "St. Jude’s was owned by the Vance Syndicate until six months ago, Dante. The family that tried to execute you during the West Coast takeover."
Dante froze. The pieces of a horrifying puzzle began to fall into place in his mind.
Ten months ago, Dante’s pregnant wife, Sophia, had been ambushed on her way to the clinic. She was brought into St. Jude’s under heavy fire, suffering from a fatal gunshot wound to the spine. The doctors delivered a child via emergency C-section, but Sophia died on the operating table. Or so Dante had been told.
What Dante hadn't known—what no one in the Sterling family had known—was that another woman had been brought into the same basement surgical unit that exact night. A young woman with Sophia's identical facial structure, who had been targeted in a hit-and-run orchestrated by the Vance family to harvest a viable heir.
"They didn't just try to kill my wife," Dante whispered, his voice shaking with a rage so profound the entire room seemed to vibrate with it. "They stole my child’s real mother. They told me Sophia gave birth to Leo before she died... but Sophia wasn't pregnant with Leo. You were."
Elina stared at him, her world crumbling into dust around her.
Ten months of grief. Ten months of believing she was empty. Ten months of feeling an ache in her chest that no doctor could diagnose.
She turned her head slowly to look at the baby in the crib.
May you like
Leo stopped banging his rattle. He looked up at her, reaching out his tiny hands, his hazel eyes sparkling with the clear, unshakeable recognition of a child who had finally found home.
"My baby..." Elina sobbed, dropping to her knees beside the crib and burying her face in the soft blanket. "You were my baby..."
