Chapter 6 - The DNA Trap
By Wednesday morning, Graham’s arrogance had completely dissolved into desperation. He had spent the night in a cheap motel on the edge of town after the security guards locked the gates of the Cherry Hills mansion.
He called my office forty-seven times before Marcus finally accepted the call on speakerphone.
"Evelyn," Graham sobbed, his voice cracking. "Please. I'm sorry. I was stressed. My mother... she got in my head. She kept telling me the babies weren't mine. She said you were cheating on me with your design clients. I didn't mean to lock you out, I swear! I was just drunk!"
I leaned forward, my voice flat. "The boys are your sons, Graham. You held them in the hospital. You looked into their eyes."
"I know, I know!" he wept. "I want to see them. I want to be a father. Let's do a DNA test, Evelyn. If we prove they're mine, we can fix this. We can be a family again. I'll do whatever you want."
I smiled, a cold, calculated expression. He thought a DNA test would be his ticket back into my multi-billion-dollar bank account. He believed that if he could prove paternity, he could claim child support, visitation rights, and a share of my estate.
"Alright, Graham," I said softly. "We'll do the DNA test. Tomorrow morning at St. Jude's Private Clinic. But if the results are positive, you will sign a full, legally binding custody surrender. You will give up every right to my children, and you will never see them again."
"No!" Graham shouted. "I won't sign that! They're my heirs!"
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"They are my heirs, Graham," I replied. "You have until tomorrow morning to decide. You can sign the custody surrender and walk away with your freedom, or I can release the financial audit of Harrington Luxe to the IRS. If I do that, you and your mother will spend the next fifteen years in a federal penitentiary for tax fraud."
The silence on the other end of the line was absolute. He had finally realized that the mouse had caught the cat.
