Chapter 8 - The Paternity Trap
The county detention center smelled of industrial disinfectant and despair.
Brandon sat behind the scratched plexiglass partition in the visitors' booth, wearing an orange jumpsuit that hung loosely off his shrunken frame. In less than two weeks, the arrogant CEO who had strutted through Miami resorts had lost twenty pounds. His hair was thinning, his eyes sunken into dark, purple sockets.
Across from him sat Evelyn Cross, opening a black leather briefcase.
Brandon glared at her through the glass, picking up the heavy plastic telephone receiver with trembling fingers.
"Where is Hannah?" Brandon hissed into the phone. "Tell her I won't sign the divorce settlement! I don't care if I’m in here! I’m entitled to fifty percent of our marital assets! Vance Logistics might be bankrupt, but the equity in our marital home—"
"The marital home was sold yesterday, Mr. Vance," Evelyn interrupted smoothly, not even looking up as she sorted through her documents. "To satisfy the federal tax liens you accumulated over the last four years. After the IRS took their cut, there was exactly zero dollars in equity remaining."
Brandon let out a strangled groan, banging his forehead against the plexiglass. "She can't leave me with nothing! I’m the father of her child!"
"And speaking of paternity," Evelyn said, looking up with a look of pure, clinical pity. "There is one final matter we need to resolve before the criminal trials begin next month."
She slid a document against the glass, pressing it flat so Brandon could read it.
It was an official DNA test report from the State Department of Health, bearing the official seal of the superior court.
"What is this?" Brandon asked, his voice shaking.
"While you were awaiting arraignment, Sonia Vance submitted an emergency motion for state-funded child support, claiming that you were the father of her unborn child and the legal father of her nine-year-old son, Mason."
A faint, pathetic spark of pride flickered in Brandon’s eyes. "See? I told Hannah! Sonia was loyal to me! I have a son! I have an heir to carry my name!"
"Read the report, Brandon," Evelyn said softly.
Brandon pulled the paper closer to the glass.
*Subject A: Brandon Vance.*
*Subject B: Mason Vance.*
*Probability of Paternity: 0.00%.*
Brandon’s eyes darted across the text. "What? No... that’s impossible. David was overseas! Sonia told me..."
"Read page two," Evelyn instructed.
*Subject A: Brandon Vance.*
*Subject C: Fetal DNA Sample (Sonia Vance pregnancy).*
*Probability of Paternity: 0.00%.*
*Identified Biological Father: Marcus Miller (Personal Trainer, Miami Beach, FL).*
The silence that followed was absolute.
Brandon stared at the numbers. He stared at the zeros. The words blurred before his eyes.
"No..." he whispered, the receiver slipping an inch from his ear. "No, no, no. She said... she swore to me... she said she only ever loved me..."
"Mason is not your son, Brandon," Evelyn said, her voice devoid of mockery, delivering the truth with the cold precision of an executioner. "And the baby she is carrying isn't yours either. Sonia has been sleeping with her trainer in Miami for the last eighteen months—the very same trainer whose condo you paid for using company funds."
Evelyn leaned in closer to the microphone.
"You gave up a loyal wife who protected your business for ten years. You abused your own daughter, a girl who worshiped you, over a three-dollar plate of meat. You threw away your entire life, your freedom, and your family's name... for a woman who treated you like an ATM."
Brandon’s hands began to shake violently. The phone receiver slipped from his grip, falling to the metal counter, dangling by its armored cord, emitting a hollow, buzzing drone.
He looked through the glass, his mouth opening in a soundless scream of agony. He grabbed his hair with both hands, rocking back and forth on the metal stool, tearing at his scalp as the realization of what he had done ripped through his soul.
Evelyn picked up her briefcase, closed the clasps with a sharp, echoing *click*, and stood up.
"The divorce is finalized, Brandon. Hannah Vance is officially Hannah Miller again. You will never see her, and you will never see your daughter for the rest of your life."
May you like
She turned and walked out of the visiting room, leaving Brandon Vance alone in the fluorescent glare, weeping into the empty air.
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