The day my wife gave birth was the day I learned the child wasn’t mine. I overheard her and her mother talking in the hospital room. Her mother hissed, “I told you to get rid of it. What will you do when Steven finds out?” My wife replied weakly, “What his father did doesn’t matter. I married into the Smiths. Let me keep this one piece of Evan. Once the baby is born, I’ll give Steven a true heir. He’ll forgive me.” Each word felt like ice. I stood frozen outside, then walked away silently. I waited until she delivered healthy twins. As congratulations filled the room, my grandfather’s assistant, Mr. Carter, arrived sternly. “The Smith family has a tradition,” he announced. “All newborns must take a paternity test immediately.” Amanda’s face went pale. 1 "That… is that really necessary? They're so tiny, just born. A test would be so hard on them! Steven… tell them, wouldn't it?" I stood at the back of the crowd, watching as she turned those familiar, heart-melting eyes on me. In the past, a single look like that could make me surrender any principle, cross any line. But the words I'd overheard—those gut-wrenching, treacherous words—were still ringing in my ears, making her current performance a bitter farce. "It's tradition. No one is exempt," I said, my voice perfectly calm, devoid of any ripple of emotion. My gaze swept coolly over the stunned faces in the room. "Mr. Carter, please arrange for the samples to be taken now. Deliver the results directly to this room as soon as they're ready." A dead silence fell over the room. Relatives exchanged uneasy glances, the air crackling with a tension so thick you could taste it. Everyone sensed something was terribly wrong, but no one dared to speak. Amanda's fingers dug into the bedsheets, her knuckles turning white. She bit her lip, her voice trembling with disbelief as she challenged me. "Steven Smith, what is the meaning of this? Do you really trust me so little?!" Her eyes, rimmed with red, locked onto mine, a perfect portrait of a wounded heart. Even now, at the bitter end, she was still trying to play me. A ghost of a cold smile touched my lips. "I'm simply following the rules. Unless… unless you have a reason to be afraid, Amanda? Do you already know, deep down, that these children aren't mine?" Before she could answer, her mother rushed forward, trying to smooth things over. "Steven, of course, the children are yours! But if it’s a Smith family rule, then let's do it. It will put everyone's mind at ease." She shot Amanda a warning look, then carefully lifted the baby boy and handed him to a nurse. The wait for the results felt like an eternity. Time stretched and warped, each second a slow-motion torment. Amanda sat bolt upright in her bed, her eyes red-rimmed and restless. She stared at me, the tension building until she finally snapped. "I went through hell to give you these children, Steven, and this is how you treat me? Don't you have a conscience?!" she shrieked, her voice cracking. "There's another Smith family rule, isn't there? The one that says if the father waives the test, no one can force it! Have you even thought about how this will make the children look? What will people say when they find out their own father suspected them from birth?! What are you turning them into?!" She was a master of turning the tables, of painting herself as the victim. Willing to deceive me, to pass off another man's children as my own, all for him. Did she really think I was that much of a fool? The last embers of warmth in my heart turned to ash. "If they were my children," I said, my voice dangerously low, "why would you be so hysterical?" "You dare talk to me about a conscience? Amanda, can you put your hand on your own heart and tell me you haven't been living a lie?" "Don't you forget," I added, each word a deliberate blow, "when your reputation was in tatters and your family was on the brink of ruin, you were on your knees, begging me to marry you." Amanda fell silent. The tears vanished as if they had never been there. Yes. It all came back to him. Her lover. Evan. She was still in college when she got tangled up with him—the "son of a murderer," as the tabloids called him. She'd stood in his filthy, cramped apartment, holding his hand in front of the flashing cameras, and declared to the world: "Even if he's a killer's son, I love him." The scandal rocked the city, from the tabloids to the highest circles of society. The Vance family heiress, hopelessly devoted to a convict's son. Was it bravery or sheer stupidity? The fallout was immediate and catastrophic. Vance Industries' stock plummeted. A nationwide boycott erupted against their products, the public furious that they'd raised a "murderer's girlfriend." In a week, the company was teetering on the edge of bankruptcy. That was when she came to me. Her fiancé since childhood. I could have thrown the headlines in her face. Everyone in our circle knew that getting involved with her was social suicide, a public disgrace. But when I looked into her tear-filled eyes… I folded. Looking back now, it feels like I willingly drank the poison she offered. Just then, the door opened. Mr. Carter walked in, holding the freshly printed, expedited report. His eyes met mine for a split second before he handed me the folder. My face was a mask of indifference as I flipped it open, my eyes jumping straight to the conclusion. Analysis Conclusion: The paternal relationship between Steven Smith and the child is supported. Probability of Paternity: 99.9999%. 2 A poorly concealed smirk of triumph bloomed on my mother-in-law's face. She bustled over to my side, her voice loud enough for the whole room to hear. "See? I told you! Our Amanda would never do such a thing! Now you can finally rest easy, Steven." I understood immediately. My lips twisted into a silent, cold smile. They had come prepared. They were determined to play this game to the very end. Fine. If they wanted a performance, I would give them one. I let out a theatrical sigh of relief, forcing a warm smile as I looked at Amanda. "It seems I was overthinking things. I'm sorry to have put you through that. To make it up to you, I'll book the best postpartum wellness retreat in the city. And for the twins' one-month welcoming gala, I'll have the papers drawn up to transfer 20% of Smith Corporation's shares to them. A gift from their great-grandfather." Amanda and her mother exchanged a flash of avarice. It was gone in an instant, but I saw it. Amanda quickly composed herself, her voice soft and sweet again. "Steven… don't you think you owe me a little something too? I'm craving that soup you make." I paused, then nodded curtly before turning to leave without another word. It didn't even take half an hour. Mr. Carter's call came through, his voice a low, urgent murmur. "Mr. Smith, you'd just left when that man, Evan, slipped into the hospital room. They've… they've named the children. The girl is Anya, and the boy is Emrys." "Mrs. Vance has also formally adopted Evan. He's moving into the Vance estate. She said it would be… more convenient for him to see Amanda in the future." Anya and Emrys. Graceful Gaze and Forever Looking Back. Even their names were a monument to their sordid love affair. And they planned to install him in her family home? To carry on right under my nose? Did they think I was a corpse? The Vance family… what audacious nerve. A cold, diamond-hard resolve settled over me, replacing the last vestiges of pain. I slowly twisted the wedding band on my finger, my voice devoid of all warmth. "Document everything. Get another, independent paternity test done. Then, call finance and terminate every single project we have with Vance Industries." "I want the Vance family wiped off the map within a month." I would make an example of them. I would show the world the price of betraying me. That evening, Amanda called, her voice syrupy with feigned happiness. "Steven, I've chosen names for the babies! Anya Smith and Emrys Smith." "I was inspired by poetry. 'Anya,' for a graceful gaze, and 'Emrys,' for forever looking back at what's beloved. Isn't it beautiful?" She chattered on excitedly. "For the welcoming gala, let's invite the press! A live broadcast! Let everyone see the new Smith heirs!" I let out a dry, mirthless laugh, tapping my fingers on my desk. I changed the subject abruptly. "I hear Evan paid you a visit. Amanda, do you remember the vows you took when you married me?" "This may have started as a business arrangement, but you know the Smith family code. The men in my family do not cheat. And any woman who marries into this family and proves unfaithful… is punished without mercy." On the other end of the line, her cheerful facade shattered. "He just came to see me… My mother adopted him. There's nothing between us anymore, I swear." "Steven, I gave you children. Why are you still doubting me? You're the only one in my heart." "If it makes you unhappy, I'll never see him again. Is that what you want?" Her frantic, clumsy lies were almost laughable. "Good," I said flatly. "I hope you remember that. Because if I find out you've seen him again… you won't like the consequences." The very next day, Amanda checked out of the hospital and into the luxury postpartum retreat. As soon as she was settled, she turned to me, the picture of a concerned wife. "Steven, you look exhausted. You've been through so much. Go back to the office. They have nurses and staff here. I'll be perfectly fine." Her tone was gentle, dripping with fake sympathy. And she was right; I was emotionally and physically drained. But I didn't leave. Instead, I went to the adjoining suite, wanting to see what game she would play next. I didn't have to wait long. I heard the soft thud of someone landing on the balcony next door, having climbed in through the window. "Evan, you're here! Quick, come see our children." "Slow down! Your stitches haven't fully healed. You're a mother now, you can't be so reckless!" She couldn't even wait. She was meeting her lover at a wellness retreat, the day after promising me she'd never see him again. I heard Amanda's voice, laced with irritation. "If it weren't for Steven, you could be their father openly. Instead, you have to sneak in here like a thief." "Amanda, it's my fault. I don't have the right background… What if Mr. Smith finds out…" "What is there to be afraid of? We fooled him with the paternity test. He runs this massive corporation, but he's so easy to fool." There was a pause, and I pictured Evan picking up one of the babies. His voice was hesitant. "But if you… if you really do have a child with him later, will you still love Anya and Emrys?" Amanda laughed, a sound that was light but suddenly turned venomous. "You believed that story I told my mother? Evan, you are the only one I have ever loved. I will never give Steven Smith a child. My plan is to wait until our children are old enough, and then they will inherit the Smith fortune as is their right!" She paused, and her next words were pure poison. "After the gala, I'll start slowly drugging his food. Make him sterile. By the time he figures it out, it will be too late." "The Smith corporation, the children, and me… it will all be yours, Evan. We'll crush every single person who ever looked down on us." Boom. Her words exploded in my mind like a thunderclap. My blood ran cold, my very breath freezing in my lungs. It wasn't just deceit. It wasn't just betrayal. From the very beginning, her plan was to consume me whole. To leave me barren, to turn me into a stepping stone, a laughingstock for the entire world. From the next room, I could still hear their soft, conspiratorial laughter. My fists clenched so tightly my nails dug into my palms. The urge to kick down the door and tear them apart was primal. But not yet. The time wasn't right. I took a deep, shuddering breath. Amanda, I gave you a chance. You're the one who chose this path to ruin. The last shred of warmth in my soul evaporated. I pulled out my phone and dialed Mr. Carter. "I want a complete investigation into Evan and the Vance family. Every financial transaction, every dirty secret you can dig up." "She wants a live-broadcasted welcoming gala? Fine. We'll give her one. A party she will remember for the rest of her miserable life." 3 A month passed, and the day of the grand welcoming gala for the Smith heirs arrived. The ballroom glittered with the city's elite, a sea of tuxedos and designer gowns. The air buzzed with camera flashes and whispered gossip. For the past month, I had been a ghost, using an "overseas business trip" as an excuse to stay away. Amanda, I heard, was thrilled to have the space. The moment she left the retreat, she'd taken the children to a villa she'd bought for Evan, playing house like a happy little family of four for two days. Inside the ballroom, the main topic of conversation was, of course, the promised 20% of Smith Corporation shares. "I heard Mr. Smith is signing the papers tonight, on stage! These kids were born with platinum spoons in their mouths." "The Smiths are certainly generous with their heirs…" Amanda, dressed in a breathtaking couture gown, looked radiant. Motherhood had given her a new, softer beauty. The moment she saw me, she rushed over, reaching to take my arm with practiced intimacy, her voice sickeningly sweet. "Steven, you're finally here! Come look at the babies, aren't they even more adorable than a month ago? Everyone is calling them little angels… By the way, where is Grandpa? Hasn't he arrived yet?" I sidestepped her touch, my face an impassive mask. I didn't even glance at the twins. "It's a small affair," I said, my voice flat. "Not worth troubling him." Her perfect smile faltered for a fraction of a second. "How could this be a small affair? It's his great-grandchildren's gala… Is he not feeling well?" Before I could answer, her mother swept in, laden with extravagant gifts. And trailing right behind her was Evan. Amanda immediately fell silent, retracting her hand. Evan, on the other hand, instinctively reached for one of the babies, a paternal gesture he couldn't suppress. The baby even started to reach back. But his eyes met mine, and he recoiled as if burned, his face a canvas of guilt. I watched the awkward, tense dance between the three of them, a cold sneer forming deep in my soul. My nails were digging into my palms again. It wasn't until Mr. Carter discreetly murmured that it was time that I took a deep breath, reined in the storm of rage inside me, and for the first time, took the two infants into my own arms. I walked toward the grand stage at the center of the ballroom. The babies felt so small and fragile in my arms. Their features, so much like Amanda's, stirred a profound ache in my chest. If only… if only they were mine. I would have been a good father. I would have given them the world. But they weren't. They were living, breathing monuments to my humiliation. The emcee's booming voice filled the hall. "Distinguished guests, thank you all for joining us to celebrate the birth of Anya and Emrys Smith! As per the wishes of the patriarch, Mr. Smith Sr., the Smith Corporation will be gifting 10% of its shares to each of these beautiful children! Tonight, you will all bear witness to this historic moment!" From the stage, I saw Amanda sidle up to Evan in the crowd. They exchanged a look of pure, unadulterated triumph. "And now, for the official signing of the share transfer! If we could please have the official seal brought to the stage—" A waiter in white gloves approached, carrying a velvet pillow with the corporate seal. Every eye in the room was fixed on it. And then, I spoke. "Wait." My single word, amplified by the microphone, silenced the entire hall. In the next instant, the lights of the grand ballroom suddenly died, plunging us into absolute darkness.
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