Chapter 7 - DNA and Dirt
By Sunday afternoon, the tension inside Evan’s house was thick enough to choke on.
Leah was pacing the length of the living room, or at least attempting to, her heavy sling throwing off her balance. Ellie was in the backyard—guarded by a massive ex-military security contractor named Briggs, who was currently letting the four-year-old braid dandelions into his combat boots.
Evan sat at the kitchen island, surrounded by scattered files, an empty pot of coffee, and two laptops. Marcus Vance, Evan’s attorney, sat across from him, aggressively typing on his phone.
"Sit down, Leah, you're making me dizzy," Marcus said without looking up. "You need to rest that shoulder, or the surgeon is going to have my head."
"I can't sit," Leah muttered, biting her thumbnail. "The hearing is tomorrow morning at nine. What if the judge looks at their money and their huge house and decides Ellie is better off with them?"
"Family courts don't work like that," Marcus assured her, tossing his phone onto the granite counter. "A biological parent has the presumptive right to custody unless proven entirely unfit. Being poor doesn't make you unfit. Having a broken collarbone doesn't make you unfit."
"But having a pending criminal investigation for aggravated assault does," Leah whispered, the tears she’d been fighting all day finally spilling over. "The SVU detective called me this morning. Sabrina’s father is putting pressure on the District Attorney’s office. If they formally charge me before the hearing tomorrow..."
"They won't," Evan said firmly, grabbing her good hand and pulling her to sit on the barstool next to him. "Because we have this."
Evan slid a stark white envelope across the counter. It bore the logo of a premier genetic testing laboratory.
"The expedited results," Marcus announced with a grin. "99.998% probability of paternity. Evan, you are legally established as the father as of this morning. I already filed the addendum with the court. That means Evan's parents aren't just suing Leah for custody; they are suing Evan. And no judge is going to take a child away from a wealthy, stable, successful CEO who has zero criminal record."
Leah let out a breath she felt like she’d been holding for four years. She slumped against Evan’s side, the exhaustion finally catching up to her. Evan immediately wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her close.
"That's step one," Evan said, his eyes darkening as he looked at his lawyer. "What about step two? Did your PI find the footage?"
Marcus’s grin widened into a predatory smile. "Oh, Evan. I am worth every single penny you pay me."
Marcus turned his laptop around so Evan and Leah could see the screen. He hit play on a video file.
The footage was grainy, taken from a high-angle security camera mounted on the eaves of the house directly across the street from Sabrina's luxury townhouse. The timestamp in the corner read Friday night, 11:45 PM—thirty minutes after Sabrina had fled Evan’s house.
The video showed Sabrina pulling her sleek BMW into her driveway. She got out of the car. She stood in the driveway for a long moment, staring at her own reflection in the car window.
Then, she reached into the trunk and pulled out a heavy metal tire iron.
Leah gasped, covering her mouth with her hand.
On the screen, Sabrina took a deep breath, raised the tire iron, and viciously struck herself across the left cheekbone. She stumbled, falling against the side of the car, before raising the iron and striking her own lip. She then tossed the tire iron back into the trunk, pulled out her phone, and snapped a selfie.
"Facebook post secured," Marcus said dryly, pausing the video right on Sabrina's bloodied face. "My PI pulled this footage this morning. He also pulled Sabrina's medical records from the ER. The doctor noted her injuries were consistent with a smooth, heavy metallic object—not a splintered wooden hockey stick."
Evan stared at the frozen frame of Sabrina’s face. He felt a sickening mix of horror and relief. "She’s insane. She is certifiably, dangerously insane."
"She’s desperate," Marcus corrected. "She realized you were serious about Leah. She realized she lost her grip on your bank account and your lifestyle. This was a scorched-earth tactic. But she just committed perjury, filed a false police report, and defamed Leah publicly."
"Have you given this to Detective Reynolds?" Leah asked, hope finally blooming in her chest.
"Not yet," Marcus said, closing the laptop with a snap. "We wait for the hearing tomorrow. Sabrina is listed as a star witness for Evan's parents. I want her on the stand. I want her under oath. When she lies to a family court judge, we drop the hammer. We don't just win custody; we get her arrested for perjury right there in the courtroom."
Evan looked at Leah, his thumb gently tracing circles on her hip. "Tomorrow, this all ends. Tomorrow, you get your life back."
Leah looked up at him, her hazel eyes searching his face. "Our life. If you still want it."
May you like
Evan didn't hesitate. In front of his lawyer, in the middle of the kitchen, he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. It was a soft, tentative kiss, filled with unspoken promises and four years of stolen time.
"I've never wanted anything more," Evan whispered against her lips.
