The hospital smelled like bleach and lies.
Ava sat on the edge of the exam bed. Paper crinkling under her thighs. Alexander stood by the window, back to her, phone in hand. He hadn’t looked at her since the car ride.
Sophia was in the room next door. Her wheelchair silent. Too silent.
A nurse walked in. Held a folder. Face neutral. Professional.
“Ms. Kingsley? Mr. Grey? Results are ready.”
Ava’s blood froze. Kingsley. The nurse called her Kingsley. Not Parker. Not Ava. Kingsley.
Because the blood test would prove it. She was Richard Kingsley’s daughter. Whether she wanted it or not.
Alexander turned. Slow. His eyes locked on the folder, not Ava.
“Read it,” he said. Voice flat.
The nurse opened the folder. Cleared her throat.
“Ms. Sophia Hart: hCG levels 45,000 mIU/mL. Consistent
