Chapter 11 - THE BABY WITH NO FATHER ON PAPER
Dalia’s baby was not Elliot’s.
Not Julian’s.
And Dalia insisted she had slept with no one else.
The doctors reran the test.
Same result.
Elliot was devastated.
Dalia was terrified.
Then a fertility specialist found the answer.
Months earlier, during a clinic procedure arranged through Margaret’s network, Dalia had been inseminated without informed consent.
The sample had been mislabeled.
The pregnancy she believed came from Elliot had actually resulted from the procedure.
Dalia stared at the doctor.
“You’re saying someone used me?”
“Yes.”
Julian looked murderous.
Gabriel was equally furious.
I felt sick.
The pattern had evolved from controlling fertility to manufacturing it.
Margaret had treated bodies like contracts.
The genetic match led somewhere unexpected.
The donor was deceased.
Victor Duval.
Julian’s father.
Everyone froze.
Dalia’s unborn child was Julian’s half-sibling.
Not his son.
Not Elliot’s.
His brother or sister.
The horror on Julian’s face said everything.
Margaret had preserved Victor’s genetic material years earlier.
Why?
Legacy.
Again.
She wanted another Duval heir if Julian remained infertile and uncooperative.
Dalia had been selected because she was young, public, beautiful, and controllable.
She was supposed to eventually “miraculously” become pregnant by Julian.
Instead, she began sleeping with Elliot and assumed the pregnancy was his.
Margaret never expected the paternity question to arise.
Dalia cried for hours.
Elliot sat outside her room.
He did not know what to do.
He loved her.
But the baby was not his.
Then he walked inside and said:
“I still want to be here.”
Dalia stared.
“You don’t have to.”
“I know.”
“Elliot.”
“I’m not promising anything I don’t understand yet.”
That was honest.
He continued:
“But I loved this baby yesterday.”
A pause.
“DNA doesn’t erase that overnight.”
Dalia broke down.
I looked at Gabriel.
He squeezed my hand.
Families were becoming less about biology in every direction.
Julian struggled differently.
The child was biologically his sibling.
A final piece of Victor’s obsession.
He had to decide whether he wanted involvement.
He chose boundaries.
“I will not claim the child.”
He told Dalia.
“But if you ever need medical family history, financial support from Victor’s estate, or legal help, it’s available.”
No ownership.
No control.
That mattered.
The criminal investigation against Margaret expanded.
She faced charges related to medical fraud, coercion, privacy violations, and financial misconduct.
She stopped appearing elegant.
Power looks different when stripped of rooms built to flatter it.
Months passed.
My pregnancy advanced beautifully.
Gabriel attended every appointment.
At thirty-two weeks, he proposed.
Quietly.
At home.
No cameras.
No gala.
No symbolic revenge against Julian.
He placed the ring beside my tea.
“Khloe Bennett, I love your mind, your temper, your inconvenient standards, and the fact that you still correct my board presentations.”
I laughed.
“Romantic.”
“I prepared more.”
“Continue.”
He smiled.
“I do not want to rescue you.”
My eyes filled.
“I do not want to rewrite the years before me.”
He took my hand.
“I only want to build the years after this with you.”
I cried.
Then said:
“Yes.”
Gabriel kissed me.
The baby kicked between us.
For once, happiness arrived without another secret.
At least, I thought so.
Three weeks later, my mother called from Oklahoma.
“Khloe.”
Her voice sounded strange.
“What?”
“We found something in your father’s old steel toolbox.”
My heart tightened.
“What?”
“A letter.”
“To who?”
“To you.”
Dated twenty years earlier.
My father had written it before his accident.
May you like
And the first line said:
Khloe, if Julian Duval ever finds you, do not trust his father.
