Andrew nodded. He told Dan everything: about Hope, Martha, and the failed talk with Kate. Dan listened without interrupting, just shaking his head.
— So what’s the plan now? — he asked when Andrew finished.
— Now I wait. Her grandmother left her a letter. And her mother did too—eight years ago. Martha’s been holding them. Maybe after she reads them, Kate will at least listen to me.
Dan looked thoughtful.
— You know, Andrew… I’ve known you a long time. You always get what you want. You build businesses, you beat the competition, you move mountains. But this… this is different. This isn’t a business deal. This is a person, with her own fears and hurts. You can’t just buy her trust like you buy stock.
— I know that now.
— You say that, but you’re still acting like a CEO. You paid her debt behind her back. You hired security to watch her. You showed up with the truth without any warning. You’re used to being in control, but here, you have none.
Andrew was silent. Dan was right. About everything.
— What would you do? — he asked.
— I’d step back. Give her space. Show her I’m here, but don’t push. And I’d wait. As long as it takes.
— And if she never accepts me?
— Then at least you’ll know you did the right thing. Instead of ruining the last chance you had by being impatient.
A week passed. Then another. Andrew worked like a man possessed. He closed deals, held meetings, flew across the country. He tried to fill his head with work so he wouldn’t think about Kate every second. It didn’t work. In the evenings, he sat in his quiet house and looked at her photo. He thought about the letters: the one Hope wrote before she died, and the one Sarah left eight years ago. What was in them? Did Sarah forgive him? Did she understand why he disappeared? Or did she take her resentment to the grave?
At the end of the second week, Martha called.
— She read them, — she said without preamble. — Both of them.
Andrew felt his heart hammer against his ribs.
— And? How is she?
— She cried for two days straight. Then she came to see me, asking about you. I told her everything I knew. She… she wants to see you.
A long pause where his future hung in the balance.
— She wants to do the test. The DNA test. She said she needs to know for sure before she makes any decisions.
Andrew exhaled. It was a step. A small, cautious step toward him.
— When? Where?
— Tomorrow. At the clinic downtown. She chose the place—neutral ground. She said you shouldn’t try to talk to her. Just show up, do the test, and leave. She’s not ready to talk yet.
— Fine, — Andrew said quickly. — I’ll be there. Whatever she wants.
The clinic was small and sterile. Private, expensive—Andrew found out later that Kate had spent nearly a month’s salary on the test. He wanted to pay for it, but Martha warned him: don’t you dare. She has to do this herself, on her own terms.
Kate was already there when he arrived. She was sitting in the waiting room, pale, with dark circles under her eyes. When she saw him, she tensed up, but she didn’t look away. Andrew stopped a few feet away, afraid to startle her.
— Hello, — he said softly.
She gave a silent nod.
He wanted to say more—to apologize, to explain—but he remembered Martha’s warning and stayed quiet. He just walked past her to the room where the technician was waiting.
The procedure took five minutes. A cheek swab, some paperwork, and the promise of results in three business days.
Andrew walked back into the waiting room. Kate was still there, waiting for her turn. Their eyes met for a split second. Andrew saw something new in her gaze: not hostility, not fear. It was confusion. And a shadow of hope she was trying to hide behind a mask of indifference. He nodded to her—just a simple nod—and walked out.
In his car, he sat for a long time without starting the engine. His hands were shaking. Three days. In three days, he would officially know what he already knew in his heart.
The results came to his email on Friday evening. Andrew opened the file. He didn’t really need to: he knew the answer. Probability of paternity: 99.9998%. He stared at the cold numbers and felt nothing. No sudden joy, no relief. Just a strange, ringing silence.
The phone rang. An unknown number.
— Hello?
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