Chapter 3

The café was a blur of noise and activity, but for me, time had slowed to a crawl. I nursed a single cup of black coffee, the bitter taste grounding me in the terrifying present. My phone sat face down on the table. Every minute that passed was a minute closer to the moment Leo would walk out of that interview, his world shattered.

Or the moment news would break of a student jumping from a building.

My stomach churned. I had to believe Jane would come through. I had to believe I could change this.

I forced myself to think, to dissect the past. The "private adoption." Mark had handled everything. He said it was faster, less red tape. I was so desperate for a child, so grateful, I never questioned it. I just signed the papers the lawyer he recommended put in front of me.

Chloe was there every step of the way. She threw me the most lavish baby shower. She was the first person to hold Leo after me. She' d always said, "He' s the son I never had." The irony was a physical blow.

My phone buzzed. It was a text from Jane.

"Checks are running. Samples are at the lab. They've put a rush on it. ETA 75 minutes."

I took a deep breath. Seventy-five minutes.

I thought about the money. I was the one with the successful architecture firm, the one with the family wealth. Mark was a financial analyst, competent but not brilliant. His lifestyle was funded by my success. If I were institutionalized or imprisoned, he would get half of everything in a divorce. More, if he could prove I was mentally unfit.

It all clicked into place. The money, the affair, the child. It wasn't just about controlling Leo. It was about getting rid of me and taking everything I had.

The minutes ticked by. I scrolled through old photos on my phone. Leo' s first steps. Leo' s first day of school. Us at the beach, building a sandcastle that looked more like one of my architectural models. In every photo, there I was, smiling, blissfully unaware of the vipers in my own home.

My phone rang. An unknown number. I almost ignored it, but a sudden instinct made me answer.

"Is this Sarah?" a man's voice said.

"Yes. Who is this?"

"My name is David Chen. I'm a private investigator. Jane hired me on your behalf. The background checks came back with some... significant flags."

My heart hammered against my ribs. "Go on."

"The adoption agency you used? It was a shell corporation. It was registered, operated for six months, and then dissolved. The only transaction it ever handled was your son's adoption. The lawyer, Mr. Abernathy, had his license suspended two years later for fraud. He now lives in the Cayman Islands."

It was worse than I imagined.

"There's more," he said. "The shell corporation was funded by an offshore account. I managed to trace its origin. The account belongs to Mark Patterson and Chloe Vance. They've been moving money through it for years, siphoning funds from your joint accounts and business holdings."

The phone felt heavy in my hand. They hadn' t just been lovers. They had been systematically robbing me for years.

"Thank you, David. Send everything you have to Jane. And to me."

I hung up. The truth was a physical weight, pressing down on me. They didn't just want my money. They wanted to erase me, to take my son and my life, and build their own on the ruins.

My phone buzzed again. A text from Jane. It was a single file attachment.

`DNA_RESULTS.pdf`

I stared at it for a long moment, my finger hovering over the screen. Then, I opened it.

The words swam before my eyes, but two lines stood out in stark, undeniable clarity.

Maternity Test: Sarah Collins and Leo Collins. Probability of maternity: 0%.

Maternity Test: Chloe Vance and Leo Collins. Probability of maternity: 99.99%.

He was her son. My son was her son. The last seventeen years of my life had been a lie. A carefully constructed cage built by the two people I trusted most in the world.

Just then, a commotion started outside. People were pointing, shouting. I looked up, my eyes drawn to the roof of the admissions building.

My phone started ringing. It was Mark. I let it go to voicemail. Then Chloe called. I ignored that too.

I stood up, my body moving with a calm I didn't know I possessed. I walked out of the café and into the growing chaos. News vans were already pulling up, cameras deploying.

The performance was about to begin. But this time, I was the director.