“Then I need a DNA test,” he said gently. “Independent lab. If I’m wrong, I’ll pay you the insured value and disappear. If I’m right… you deserve the truth.”
The jeweler added softly, “The value would change your life.”
My phone buzzed.
A text from Nathan.
“I hear you’re pawning jewelry. Don’t embarrass yourself.”
My stomach dropped. I hadn’t told him.
Charles noticed. “Someone knows you’re here.”
That’s when I realized this wasn’t just about money. It was about safety.
I agreed.
We went to a discreet private clinic. Forms. Swabs. Forty-eight hours for results.
“Two days,” I muttered. “I can’t afford groceries for two days.”
Charles handed me an envelope.
“Three months’ rent and utilities. No contracts. If I’m wrong, you return it. If I’m right… consider it an apology.”
“My mom worked herself sick raising me,” I said. “If this is true… she deserved better.”
“She gave you love,” he replied. “We will honor that.”
We returned to the store to wait out the impossible. Then the doorbell chimed.
Nathan walked in with that same controlled smile—the one that had once convinced me he was stability.
“How did you find me?” I demanded.
“Shared accounts,” he shrugged. “You’ve always been predictable.”