The DNA Deception
1238 Words
Chapter 20
The DNA Deception
Damian’s POV
"You're staring," Amara said, raising her eyebrows at me as she scooped another bite of scrambled eggs into her mouth.
I blinked, looking away quickly, feeling like I’d just been caught doing something criminal. “Sorry. Just… thinking.”
She gave a soft chuckle and leaned back against the headboard. “Thinking? About what? How bad your takeout dinner’s going to be?”
I smirked. “I happen to be very skilled at choosing the best takeout in the city, thank you very much.”
“Mmmh,” she hummed, clearly not convinced. “We’ll see.”
It felt easy too easy. Sitting there with her, laughing, sharing a plate of now-cold breakfast, I almost believed the chaos around us had finally paused.
Almost.
Because deep down, there was a storm brewing. I could feel it an itch beneath my skin I couldn’t shake. And just as I opened my mouth to say something else, maybe something stupid like “You’re beautiful when you laugh,” my phone buzzed violently on the nightstand.
“Let me guess,” Amara said, glancing at it. “Work.”
I frowned, picking it up. The notification wasn’t from my company. It was a direct alert from Noah. Private. Urgent. Confidential.
My stomach twisted. “I’ll be right back.”
“Everything okay?” Amara asked, her tone cautious now.
“Yeah, just… give me a second.”
I stepped out of the room and into my office, locking the door behind me. With shaky fingers, I clicked the link Noah had sent.
Lakeshore Exclusive: Billionaire Damian Kane Raises Another Man’s Child?
Explosive DNA Report Suggests Victor Graham Is the Father of Amara Benson’s Baby.
I felt the ground vanish beneath me.
My breath hitched, and for a moment, I couldn’t hear anything but the rush of blood in my ears. I scrolled down, my eyes scanning the leaked “report.” There it was clear as day Victor Graham: 99.9% match.
“Noah,” I barked into my phone the moment he picked up. “Where the hell did this come from?”
“I… I just got it, boss. It’s spreading like wildfire across social media. Even Reddit’s going crazy. Some anonymous tip sent it to three tabloid sites. I thought you should know before it gets to..."
“It’s already gotten to me,” I growled. “Where’s it from? Is it verified?”
“That’s the thing… I’m not sure it’s real. It looks legit, but...”
“But you don’t know,” I snapped.
There was a long pause. “No, sir. I don’t.”
I ended the call.
My hand clenched around the phone so tightly I heard it creak. My chest burned...rage, confusion, humiliation.
She lied. She played me.
I had allowed myself to feel again. I kissed her. I cooked...hell, I cooked! I opened up my home, my heart. I told her she was my family.
And all the while… she was carrying his child.
>>>>>>>>>>>
I returned to the bedroom slowly, like I was walking toward a firing squad. Amara looked up at me and smiled. That damned smile.
“I saved you some juice,” she said, holding up the glass.
I stood there, silent.
She blinked. “Damian? Is everything alright?”
“Is there something you want to tell me?” My voice was sharp. Too sharp.
Her brow furrowed. “About what?”
I didn’t answer. I simply dropped my phone on the bed, the tabloid headline glowing like a scarlet letter across the screen.
She froze.
“Damian…” Her voice was barely a whisper. “I...I don’t know what this is. Where did this come from?”
“Don’t you?” I asked, my voice eerily calm. “Because it looks pretty damn official. And viral.”
She grabbed the phone, scrolling through the article with trembling fingers. Her face went pale, eyes darting across the screen. “This… This is fake. Damian, I swear to you, I didn’t do this. I never got any test done.”
“Then someone else did,” I snapped. “And somehow, they’re claiming Victor is the father.”
“He’s not!” she shouted, standing now. “I haven’t even been with him since...since before the engagement. You know that.”
“I don’t know anything anymore, Amara.”
The words sliced through the air like a blade. I saw her flinch, as if I’d physically hit her.
“I opened my home to you,” I said. “I protected you. Defended you in front of your entire family. And this whole time… you were carrying his baby?”
Her eyes welled up. “No. Damian, this is someone’s game. You have to believe me.”
I laughed...cold and bitter. “You want me to believe you, when all I have is this article and your word?”
“Isn’t that enough?” she cried, tears slipping down her cheeks.
“No,” I said, each syllable sharp as glass. “It’s not.”
She stepped forward, reaching for me. “Damian, please. Don’t shut me out. Not like this. We just started to..."
“Started to what?” I pulled back. “Falling in love? Build something real? Don’t flatter yourself. I was lonely, vulnerable. You were convenient.”
Her face crumbled at my words, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. I had to burn the bridge before I ran back across it again.
“You said you didn’t want a loveless marriage,” I continued. “Well, congratulations, sweetheart. You don’t have one now. Because whatever this is? It’s over.”
“Damian…”
“Save it.”
I turned and left the room, the sound of her sob echoing behind me.
I didn’t go far. Just the other end of the penthouse. I needed air, needed space, but even the city skyline offered no comfort tonight.
My phone buzzed again. It was another message from Noah.
“Victor’s office just released a statement: ‘No comment at this time.’ He hasn’t denied it.”
Of course, he hasn’t. Why would he? This plays into his hands perfectly. He gets Amara and a redemption arc.
And me?
I get to be the fool.
I stared out the window, chest hollow, heart cold.
I had been stupid. I thought I could have more. I thought I could be someone other than the ruthless, calculated bastard I had always been.
But emotions make you weak.
And I had been weak for Amara.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
An hour passed before I heard a knock on my study door.
“Damian?” Her voice was soft, shaky. “Please… can we talk?”
I didn’t respond.
She opened the door anyway, stepping in slowly. Her eyes were red, her hands clasped tightly in front of her.
“I called the clinic,” she said quietly. “They confirmed I’ve never taken a test there. Someone forged it, Damian. I don’t know how yet, but I’ll find out.”
“Don’t,” I muttered.
She flinched again. “Don’t what?”
“Don’t bother. This isn’t about proving yourself anymore.”
“Then what is it about?”
“It’s about me remembering who the hell I am.”
She walked forward, tears streaming. “You think I’m lying?”
“I think I’m done.”
- Writer
