THE MATTHIAS FAMILY
1299 Words
Adriel arrived at the Matthias estate just before dinner.
The enormous stone mansion had belonged to his family for generations. Every time he crossed its gates, he felt the weight of the Matthias name settle over his shoulders.
Tonight was no different.
Except now, he was going to become a father.
No one in his family knew.
The moment he entered the dining room, his grandfather's voice greeted him.
“You're late.”
Adriel removed his coat. “I had work.”
Theophilus Matthias looked at him over the rim of his glasses. “You always have work.”
At eighty-one, Theophilus still possessed the commanding presence that had built the foundation of the Matthias empire.
Beside him sat Mathilda, Adriel's mother.
She smiled warmly. “Come and sit down.”
Adriel took his usual seat.
Across from him, Alicent, his sister, was scrolling through her phone.
At twenty-eight, she was the youngest member of the family.
“Put that phone away,” Theophilus ordered.
Alicent looked up.
“I'm texting my fiancé, he might think I've abandoned him."
Theophilus shook his head.
Alicent smiled.
Adriel watched his sister.
She looks genuinely happy.
He couldn't remember the last time happiness had come that easily to him.
Theophilus turned toward him. “And you?”
Adriel looked up. “What?”
“When are you going to stop hiding from women?”
Mathilda sighed. “Father.”
“What? The boy is thirty-eight.”
“I'm sitting right here,” Adriel said dryly.
“Then answer me.”
Adriel picked up his glass. “I have no plans to marry again.”
The table went silent.
Alicent lowered her phone.
Mathilda looked concerned.
Theophilus frowned.
“Again?”
“Yes.”
“Your divorce wasn't the end of the world.”
“It was the end of my marriage.”
“You're going to spend the rest of your life alone because one woman disappointed you?”
Adriel's jaw tightened. “It's my life.”
“And the family?”
Adriel looked at him. “The family will survive.”
Theophilus leaned back. “Without an heir?”
Adriel said nothing.
The word hung between them.
Heir.
If only they knew.
Mathilda studied her son. “You've always wanted children.”
“I changed my mind.”
She didn't believe him. “Adriel.”
“I said I'm not discussing this.”
Theophilus watched him carefully.
“You're hiding something.”
Adriel's eyes met his grandfather's. “No.”
After dinner, Alicent found Adriel standing alone on the terrace.
She walked beside him. “You're definitely hiding something.”
Adriel glanced at her. “You sound like Grandfather.”
“Because he's right.”
“About what?”
“You.”
She smiled. “You've been different lately.”
“I haven't.”
“You have.”
Adriel looked toward the gardens.
Alicent crossed her arms. “Is there a woman?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Then why do you look like someone just told you you're going to be a father?”
Adriel froze.
Alicent's smile disappeared. “Wait.”
She stared at him. “Adriel?”
He said nothing.
Her eyes widened. “You're going to be a father?”
“Keep your voice down.”
“Oh my God.”
“Alicent.”
“You're serious?”
He looked at her. “It's complicated.”
She stared at him for several seconds. “Who is she?”
“There is no ‘she’ in the way you're thinking.”
“Then explain.”
Adriel sighed. “It's a private matter.”
Alicent studied his face.
“You're actually going to make me crazy.”
“Good.”
She laughed.
“Fine. I won't ask.”
“But when you finally tell me, I want the whole story.”
Adriel nodded.
Alicent disappeared inside.
He remained outside.
His sister's excitement should have made him feel relieved but he felt somehow.
Meanwhile, Jelina sat on her bed with Eliana on a video call.
“Look.”
She held up the ultrasound appointment card.
Eliana smiled. “You're glowing.”
“Am I?”
“Yes.”
Jelina touched her stomach.
“I still can't believe it.”
“Neither can I.”
Eliana's smile softened.
“Have you told Kevin?”
“Of course.”
“And how is he?”
“Happy.”
“Really happy?”
Jelina nodded.
“He's already talking about cribs and baby names.”
“That sounds promising.”
“It does.”
Jelina paused.
Then she said quietly, “I think this baby is going to save our marriage.”
Eliana didn't answer immediately. “Maybe,” she said.
“Eliana.”
Her sister sighed.
“I just want you to make sure you're not expecting a baby to fix everything that was already broken.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
But she wasn't completely sure.
The next morning, Kevin woke early.
He found Jelina in the kitchen.
She was making breakfast.
“You shouldn't be standing for too long.”
She smiled. “I'm pregnant, not sick.”
“I know.”
He walked behind her and placed both hands gently around her waist.
“You're carrying my child.”
Jelina smiled. “Our child.”
Kevin's arms tightened. “Our child.”
For a moment, his eyes closed.
But when Jelina turned away, his expression changed.
He had been thinking about the donor again.
He didn't know why the thought bothered him so much.
The doctor had said it was anonymous.
Yet something inside him refused to settle.
He needed certainty.
That the child would belong to him.
He picked up his phone. “I'll be back later.”
“Where are you going?”
“I have something to check.”
“What?”
“Work.”
He kissed her cheek and left.
At the fertility clinic, Adriel's attorney was waiting for a meeting with the director.
But before he could enter, his phone rang.
“Mr. Bennett speaking.”
A voice on the other end spoke quickly.
His expression changed. “What?”
He listened.
Then looked toward the clinic director's office.
“Are you certain?”
Another pause. “I understand.” He ended the call.
The director approached.
“What happened?”
“The patient's husband has requested access to the donor information.”
The director's face paled.
“Kevin Mayfair?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I don't know.”
“If he discovers the truth…”
Mr. Bennett finished the sentence.
“Then the entire situation becomes much more dangerous.”
That evening, Kevin sat in his truck outside the clinic.
He stared at the building.
He didn't know why he had come.
But he couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right.
He picked up his phone and looked at the clinic's number.
His thumb hovered over the screen.
Then he called.
“Good evening,” a receptionist answered.
“I need information about my wife's IVF procedure.”
“I'm sorry, sir. We can't disclose confidential donor information.”
“I don't want the donor's identity.”
Kevin paused.
“I just want to know one thing.”
“What?”
“Was the sample definitely from the anonymous donor we selected?”
The receptionist hesitated.
Only for a second.
But Kevin heard it.
His eyes narrowed.
“Hello?”
“I'll have to transfer you to the records department.”
The call went silent.
Kevin slowly lowered the phone.
Then his phone lit up with an unknown message.
If you want to know who fathered your wife's baby, come to the clinic tomorrow. Come alone.
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