Chapter 6 - The War of the Paternity Test
The afternoon sun was completely blocked by a wall of television satellite trucks outside the main entrance of the Hawthorne Memorial Hospital. The news of a secret Hawthorne heir, a barefoot prodigy who had disrupted the city’s most exclusive charity gala, had gone viral across Facebook, TikTok, and international news networks. Public opinion was fiercely divided, fueled by the Vance family's media manipulation.
Inside the hospital’s private laboratory, a tense standoff was taking place. Two court-appointed social workers and a state marshal stood near the door, holding a legal order for an immediate custody extraction signed by a family court judge who happened to be a close political ally of Senator Vance.
"Mr. Hawthorne," the lead social worker, a stern woman named Margaret Croft, said, crossing her arms. "The court order is clear. Until a legal DNA paternity test is processed and verified by a state-approved independent lab, this child is classified as a ward of the state due to her prolonged history of severe neglect and homelessness. We must take her into protective custody immediately."
Charles stood in front of the laboratory doors like a solid wall of granite. He was flanked by six of his own personal attorneys, led by Marcus Vance—no relation to Victoria—the most ruthless defense lawyer in the corporate world.
"Ms. Croft," Marcus stepped forward, his voice a smooth, venomous purr as he tapped a stack of documents against his leather folder. "This is a certified, emergency medical declaration from the chief of pediatrics at this hospital. It states that removing the child, Lily Mendoza, from this facility at this time would cause severe, irreversible psychological trauma due to her acute separation anxiety from her recovering mother. If you attempt to execute that order, we will personally sue you, your agency, and the signing judge for civil rights violations and intentional infliction of emotional distress before the sun sets."
The state marshal looked uneasy, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Look, counselor, we’re just doing our jobs. The judge wants a verified DNA sample processed by the state lab."
"The sample is already being processed," Charles said, his voice sending a chill through the room. He pointed to the glass partition behind him, where the head of forensic genetics was currently loading two swabs—one from Charles and one from Lily—into a high-speed genetic sequencer. "But it will be processed right here, under my security cameras, by the top geneticist in the country. I don't trust your 'independent state lab' not to accidentally lose the files or alter the markers on Senator Vance's payroll."
"Mr. Hawthorne, you cannot dictate legal protocol!" Ms. Croft argued, her face turning red.
"I can, and I am," Charles said, stepping closer to her, his eyes boring into hers with a terrifying intensity. "Every single news station outside is currently broadcasting a live feed of this hospital. If you attempt to drag an eleven-year-old girl out of a medical facility in handcuffs, the entire world will watch it live on Facebook. Let’s see how your agency’s public image handles that."
Before Ms. Croft could fire back a retort, the internal printer inside the genetic lab hummed to life. The geneticist, a white-haired man named Dr. Aris, walked out of the secure room holding a single sheet of paper. The room went completely dead silent. Every eye turned to the document.
Dr. Aris looked at Charles, his expression filled with a profound, professional solemnity. "The genetic markers are definitive, Mr. Hawthorne. The locus matching across all twenty standard core alleles shows a perfect inheritance pattern. The probability of paternity is... 99.999%."
Charles let out a long, shuddering breath that he felt he had been holding for eleven long years. He snatched the paper from the doctor's hand and shoved it directly into Ms. Croft’s face.
"There is your protocol," Charles growled, his voice vibrating with a dangerous triumph. "She is my daughter. She carries my blood, she carries my name, and she carries the total legal immunity of the Hawthorne estate. Now, get out of my hospital before I have my security team throw you out for trespassing."
Ms. Croft stared at the paper, her jaw dropping as she saw the definitive scientific proof. Without another word, she turned on her heel and hurried out of the laboratory, followed closely by the social workers and the marshal.
May you like
Charles didn't waste a single second celebrating. He turned to Marcus, his face hardening into an expression of cold warfare. "Marcus, the DNA is confirmed. Initiate Phase Two. I want the federal prosecutor to receive the encrypted files from Anna’s journal regarding Victoria Vance and my mother. I want them arrested for corporate extortion and conspiracy before the market opens tomorrow."
"Consider it done, Mr. Hawthorne," Marcus smiled, his eyes flashing with the thrill of the hunt. "The Vance family is about to find out what happens when you try to steal the crown from the king."
