Ch.17: DNA Evidence

I didn't trust my eyes. I didn't trust Leo's memory. In this house, even the truth felt like a trap. I needed biological certainty.

I reached out and plucked a single, short dark hair from the shoulder of Leo's soaked t-shirt.

He flinched. "What are you doing?"

"Proof," I said, pocketing the hair in a small plastic baggie I kept for Daisy's vitamins. "Thorne has a DNA sequencer in the lab. If you're the father, the markers will match."

"You can't go back in there," Leo argued, grabbing my arm. "He's on a warpath. He'll kill you."

"He won't kill me. He needs me." I pulled away. "Fix the car. Be ready to drive."

I ran back up the driveway in the rain, slipping through the service entrance before the security patrols could spot me.

The house was quiet. Thorne was likely still in the West Wing, obsessing over Isabella's "reaction." That was my window.

I made it to the lab an hour later, during the scheduled 'sterilization cycle' when the automated UV lights came on. I had a ten-minute gap before the systems reset.

I swiped Thorne's stolen keycard. The door hissed open.

The lab was bathed in an eerie blue light. I moved quickly to the sequencer. It was a tabletop model, top of the line, capable of running a familial match in minutes.

I pulled out the hair. I placed it in the sample tray.

Then I went to the refrigerator. I didn't need to take blood from Daisy again; Thorne kept 'baseline samples' for his records. I found a vial labeled *Subject: D-01*.

I loaded a drop into the second tray.

*Initiate Comparison.*

The machine hummed. A progress bar crawled across the screen.

20%... 50%... 80%...

My heart hammered against my ribs. If Leo was the father, it meant Thorne hadn't just stolen a random baby. He had engineered her. He had selected Leo for his genetic profile, selected me for mine, and then waited for the stars to align.

*Match Confirmed.*
*Probability of Paternity: 99.998%*

I stared at the screen. The numbers glowed blue in the dark room.

It wasn't an accident. It wasn't a crime of opportunity. It was a recipe.

"What are you looking at, Mara?"

The voice came from the speaker system.

I jumped, spinning around. The room was empty.

"The console, Mara. Look at the console."

I looked down. A small webcam was mounted on the top of the sequencer. The red recording light was on.

Thorne wasn't in the room. He was watching remotely.

"Curiosity killed the cat," his voice purred through the speakers. "But in this case, it just confirmed the hypothesis."

The screen changed. The DNA results vanished, replaced by a live feed of Thorne sitting in his study, a glass of scotch in his hand.

"You figured it out," he said, raising the glass to the camera. "Leo is the biological sire. You are the biological dam. And Daisy is the prize livestock."

"You planned this," I whispered at the screen. "Before she was even conceived."

"I needed specific markers," Thorne explained, as if discussing a vintage wine. "Leo has the durability gene. You have the regenerative enzyme. Neither of you is special on your own. But together... you created gold."

"Why keep him here?" I demanded. "Why keep the father as your chauffeur?"

Thorne laughed. It was a cold, jagged sound.

"Because spare parts are hard to come by, Elena. If Daisy's marrow fails, or if I need a transplant to sustain her... well, it's convenient to have a genetic match living above the garage."

The feed cut to black.

I stood there in the dark, the horror washing over me like ice water.

Leo wasn't just an employee. He wasn't just a victim. He was the backup generator.

Leo is the father. And Thorne knows it. That's why he hired him—to keep the spare parts close.