Stanley's POV
The night air is cool, but it does nothing to soothe the rage burning inside me. My fists clench at my sides as I stride toward the little lab house, my guards making sure no one is following.
I don’t know why I even feel nervous. I already know what I’m about to hear, but a small part of me is still clinging to the possibility that maybe—just maybe—I was wrong.
Mrs. Eliot is sitting behind her desk when I step into her office. She looks up, takes one glance at my face, and shakes her head.
"Sit down, Stanley."
"I’m not here to sit," I snap. "I’m here for answers."
She exhales slowly, folding her hands on the desk. "I know. But you’re not going to like the answer."
My stomach tightens. "Just say it."
"The DNA doesn’t match," she says, her voice firm but laced with sy
