Ethan's POV
The email from the lab came in at 2:14 in the afternoon, subject line: Paternity Test Results — CONFIDENTIAL.
I stared at it for a full minute before I opened it.
"Are you going to click on it," Amara said, "or should I do it for you?"
We were in my office, door locked, blinds down, the two of us standing on opposite sides of my desk like the email was a bomb neither of us wanted to defuse first.
"Give me a second."
"You've had thirty seconds."
"I need one more."
"Ethan."
"Fine." I clicked it.
The document loaded slow enough that I could hear my own pulse in my ears. Then it was just there, in plain black text, no ceremony at all for something this enormous.
Probability of paternity: 99.99%.
"He's mine," I said.
"He's yours." Amara's voice was quieter than I expect
