Monday arrives heavy with November rain. Vlad insists on a formal paternity test—not because he doubts, but because Devon deserves legal certainty, documented proof that can never be questioned.
"We'll go to the private hospital in town," Vlad announces at breakfast. "Dr. Morrison is expecting us at ten."
Devon pushes eggs around his plate. "Is this really necessary? Everyone can see we're related."
"Legal protection," Vlad says simply. "You're my heir. That comes with complications that need documentation."
"Heir?" Devon looks up sharply. "I'm not even calling you Dad yet, and you're making me your heir?"
"You were my heir the moment you were conceived," Vlad replies. "I just didn't know it."
The ride to the hospital is silent. Devon sits between us in the back of Vlad's Mercedes, staring out at the rain-slicked streets. I want to take his hand, but he's kept them firmly in his lap since the truth came out.
At the hospital—a private facility that looks more like a boutique hotel—we're ushered into a VIP suite. Dr. Morrison, a woman with silver hair and kind eyes, explains the process to Devon.
"Just a simple cheek swab," she says. "Results in 24 hours, though in this case..." She glances between Vlad and Devon. "I suspect we already know what they'll say."
While we wait for the nurse to prepare the tests, Leo appears in the doorway. His jaw still shows purple from Vlad's punch, but he's smiling his sharp smile.
"Family outing?" he asks, settling into a chair uninvited. "How domestic."
"Leave," Vlad orders.
"Actually, I'm here on school business." Leo pulls out his phone. "We've had some interesting inquiries about young Devon. Seems his photograph from last month's concert has been circulating. The Juilliard prep program wants to discuss early admission."
Devon straightens. "Juilliard?"
"Among others." Leo scrolls through emails. "The Moscow Conservatory, the Royal Academy. Apparently, a six-year-old playing the Dickenson Sonata is newsworthy. Especially when that six-year-old is a Dickenson."
"You leaked the video," I accuse.
"I shared a proud uncle moment," Leo corrects. "Is that a crime?"
"Uncle?" Devon asks quietly.
Leo's smile softens marginally. "Well, yes. Like it or not, kid, I'm your uncle. The fun one who'll teach you all the things your parents won't."
"Like manipulation and cruelty?" I snap.
"Like chess and corporate strategy," Leo counters. "Someone needs to prepare him for the world he's inheriting."
The nurse arrives before the argument can escalate. She swabs Devon's cheek first, then Vlad's. Such a simple thing—cotton on a stick—to prove what anyone with eyes can see.
As we're leaving, my phone rings. My mother.
"Jasmine, I've had the most interesting call from Helen Chen," she says without preamble. "She says her son Nathan has broken off your engagement permanently. What engagement, Jasmine? What haven't you told me?"
I step away from the others. "It's complicated, Mom."
"Then uncomplicate it. Thanksgiving is in three days. I expect you and my grandson there. And bring whoever his father is—Helen mentioned something about that too."
She hangs up before I can respond.
"Problem?" Vlad asks.
"My mother. She wants us for Thanksgiving. All of us."
Devon looks between us. "She doesn't know about... any of this?"
"She knows you exist. She doesn't know the details."
"More lies," Devon sighs.
"More complications," I correct. "But no more lies. If we go—and that's if—she gets the truth."
"We'll go," Vlad decides. "Devon should know his grandmother."
"You don't get to decide—" I start.
"I want to go," Devon interrupts. "I want to meet her. I want..." He pauses, choosing words carefully. "I want to understand where I come from. All of it."
That evening, back at Blackwood, Devon finds me grading papers in my room.
"Mom?" He stands in the doorway, uncertain.
"Come in, baby."
He sits on my bed, picking at the quilt. "Were you scared? When you found out about me?"
"Terrified," I admit. "Twenty years old, alone, pregnant by a stranger. I was absolutely terrified."
"But you kept me."
"Never questioned it for a second. You were mine from the moment I knew you existed."
"And now I'm his too." It's not a question.
"You were always his, Devon. We just didn't know it."
"He looks at me like I'm a miracle," Devon says quietly. "Like I'm something precious he lost and found again."
"You are."
"But I'm also proof of what you both did. A mistake that became a person."
I pull him into my arms, and for the first time in days, he doesn't resist. "You were never a mistake. Unexpected, yes. Unplanned, absolutely. But never, ever a mistake."
"He wants me to learn the family business," Devon mumbles against my shoulder. "Uncle Leo's been leaving economics books outside my door."
"Uncle Leo?"
"That's what he called himself. Is that okay?"
I think about Leo—manipulative, cruel, but ultimately the catalyst that brought truth to light. "He's your uncle. That's just fact. Whether you want a relationship with him is your choice."
"I kind of like him," Devon admits. "He's honest about being horrible. It's refreshing after all the lies."
I laugh despite myself. "Only you could find Leo's cruelty refreshing."
"He plays piano too. Did you know? He's actually really good. He said he'll teach me the Dickenson Variations if I want."
"Do you want?"
Devon pulls back to look at me. "I want to know them. All of them. The good and bad and complicated. Is that okay?"
"It's more than okay. It's brave."
My phone buzzes with a text from Vlad: Results tomorrow. Dinner tonight? All three of us?
I show Devon. He takes my phone and types back: Yes.
"You sure?" I ask.
"No," he says honestly. "But I think that's okay too."