Chapter 1
I'm a paternity tester. It is a job that makes for awkward small talk, and most days, it is just as uncomfortable as it sounds.
This morning, I hadn't even finished my first coffee when a new case landed on my desk. The request was... unusual.
The file was for a set of boy-girl twins. My eyes drifted to the contact number on the screen. The last four digits were 1314.
The breath caught in my throat. That was my wife's number. And we have boy-girl twins, too.
A cold knot tightened in my stomach. Please, don't let this be her file.
No way, what am I thinking? It must just be a coincidence.
Soon, the results came in. The boy's probability of paternity with the tested male was 99.9999%, while the girl's was only 79.574%.
In other words, the boy was related to the tested man, but the girl was not.
Different fathers for fraternal twins?
That was completely insane.
Statistically, the probability was about one in three million.
It was because women usually release only one egg per month; releasing two was extremely rare.
Furthermore, they would have needed to be with two different men within about a 12-hour window.
Because once fertilization occurred, after about 24 hours, the fertilized egg began to implant, and the body started a protective mechanism, preventing further pregnancy until that embryo developed.
I was really curious about which "lucky" guy had hit this particular jackpot.
At the same time, a gut feeling gave me a vague, uncomfortable unease.
That feeling led me straight to the info center, only place where I could get the full scoop on the applicant and the test details.
Regular verifiers only handle applications marked with serial numbers.
But I was just promoted to Head of the Information Section at the Paternity Test Center.
As the head, I have that privilege.
Tracing back via the submission ID, I clicked into the complete applicant information form.
When the page loaded, I was utterly stunned.
Submitter: Millie Hunter. Exactly the same name as my wife.
I comforted myself internally; it must be a coincidence.
Just like there are tens of thousands of people named Alex in the country.
I continued scrolling down the page.
I hoped the ID and phone number fields would show unfamiliar digits.
But the numbers that appeared before my eyes were all too familiar, shattering my illusions instantly.
An ID number and phone number I knew by heart. This meant the application was submitted by my wife.
So... was our son mine, but our daughter wasn't?
I kept reading. Tested Father: Tucker George.
Who the hell was that?
So it seemed my earlier guess was wrong.
It was the opposite. The boy's father was Tucker, and the girl's father should be me.
Why would I say that?
Ever since she was little, our daughter had been attached to me. Plus, she had my single eyelids, small eyes, full lips, and darker skin. Let's just say her looks were... unique.
Our son, on the other hand, had big eyes, double eyelids, fair skin, and was tall and handsome, a proper little heartthrob.
I always thought he just inherited Millie's superior genes.
Turns out he inherited someone else's genes.
I took out my phone, ready to call my wife. I had to confront her, ask why she'd deceived me for six years.
A full six years I've been kept in the dark, raising another man's son!
I unlocked my phone. The lock screen showed a happy picture of our family of four, the kind anyone would envy.
I put the phone down. I decided to confront her face-to-face at home. It was not something to scream about over the phone.
"Teagan, what are you thinking about so deeply?"
A robust voice pulled me back from my chaotic thoughts.
I turned around. It was Henry Rhodes, the Deputy Director of our center.