The DNA Test That Backfired Chapter 02
My silence only seemed to embolden Camille.
“If Arlette is willing, that would be for the best, of course,” she said slowly.
“But if you won’t even agree to a test, it’s hard not to suspect you already know the results won’t be in your favor.”
She paused, a faint smile playing on her lips.
“If you’ve done nothing wrong, why be afraid of a test?”
“Staying silent just makes it look like you have something to hide.”
Several relatives at the table had already begun exchanging uneasy glances.
I still didn’t lift my head.
Sensing her opportunity, Camille’s voice sharpened.
“I didn’t want to be this direct.” She shook her head.
“But your reaction leaves me no choice but to assume the worst. Did you bring another man’s child into the Marino family?”
She leaned forward slightly, her tone grave.
“Did you hide this before you got married?”
“Were you planning to use this child to get your hands on the Marino family’s money?”
“If that’s true, the consequences will be severe.”
Just then, the spoon in Teddy’s hand fell to the floor with a sharp clatter and rolled away.
The sudden chill in the room had frightened him.
His little mouth trembled as he grabbed my sleeve and shrank into my arms.
I held him tighter, my palm shielding the back of his head, but I didn’t look at Camille.
I only looked at Zane.
He kept his head down, staring at the glass of wine in front of him.
His fingers traced the rim of the glass, but for a long time, he said nothing.
I was waiting for him to take a stand.
He knew better than anyone why Teddy was here.
I thought, at the very least, he would do what he’d done three years ago: take my hand and tell everyone, *She is my wife, and Teddy is my son.*
When Zane remained silent, Camille pressed her advantage.
She reached out and laid her hand over his.
“Zane,” she murmured, her voice growing softer. “You don’t want to raise another man’s child, do you?”
“Do the test. Once the result is clear, you’ll have your answer.”
Zane’s Adam’s apple bobbed.
Everyone at the table was looking at him.
So was I.
After a long moment, he finally spoke.
“…Just do it.”
For a second, I thought I’d misheard him.
“What did you say?” I raised my head and looked at him.
He avoided my eyes, his gaze drifting away.
“Arlette,” he said, his voice low, “once it’s done, everyone will stop suspecting you.”
“I… I want to know the result, too.”
I almost laughed.
You don’t need to know the result.
You signed that agreement with your own hand before we were married.
The surgical scar on your abdomen is still there.
You know everything.