Page 143 of Ruthless Claim

I look back at the door.

I can feel Cillian looking at me and a flash of anger runs through me.

He watched that exchange and he said absolutely nothing.

This fucking asshole can destroy normal men but decides to sit out women having bitchy conversations.

But then again, why am I surprised? He’s a coward when it comes to Connor, so why would I ever think he would defend his wife?

The door to the interior opens and a woman in scrubs looks out. “Mr. Brennan? If you’d like to come through, we’re ready for you.”

Cillian, Claire, and Finn stand.

I stand.

Claire glances at me, a wrinkle on her forehead. “Oh—you don’t need to come back. You can wait here, it’s just⁠—”

I flash her my most withering smile. “I’m coming,” I tell her, and I walk past her through the door before she can finish the sentence.

She exhales sharply behind me as the nurse leads us to the examination room.

The room is small and smells like antiseptic. There are three chairs against one wall and a table with equipment I don’t look at. The technician is a woman in her thirties, efficient and pleasant, with the practiced warmth of someone who handles delicate matters all day and has learned how to handle them.

“So,” she says, looking between us, “I just want to walk everyone through what we’re doing today. We’ll be collecting a buccal swab—that’s just a cheek swab—from both the child and the alleged father, as well as a small blood sample from the father. It’s quick and painless.” She smiles at Finn. “Have you ever had a check-up at the doctor where they looked in your mouth?”

Finn nods, standing very close to his mother. He fiddles with the strap of his backpack.

“It’s just like that. Maybe even quicker.” She looks at all of us. “The samples go to our lab and we’ll have results for you in three to five business days. We’ll call the primary contact.” She glances at her paperwork. “That’s you, Mr. Brennan. Any questions before we start?”

“No,” Cillian says testily. He has his arms crossed over his broad chest and I can feel the agitation and anxiety pouring off him. I would know; I feel the same way.

“Is it accurate?” Claire asks tightly. “The test?”

The technician nods. “Extremely. For paternity testing we look at multiple genetic markers, which gives us a probability result. Anything above 99% is considered conclusive for paternity, and anything below 1% is considered conclusive exclusion,” she says calmly, like she says this a lot. “The science is very reliable.”

Claire nods, satisfied. Like she knew the answer and wanted it said out loud.

The swabs take about ninety seconds. Finn opens his mouth cooperatively when asked, flinches slightly at the scratch of it, but recovers immediately.

Cillian’s is done just as quickly.

The blood draw takes slightly longer, but it’s not much, just a small tube. Cillian looks at the wall while it happens.

Then the technician caps everything and labels it. She places it in a rack like it isn’t the thing that might change everyone in this room’s life.

“Three to five business days,” she says again. “We’ll be in touch.”

That’s it. That’s the whole process. Ninety seconds of cotton swabs and one small tube of blood and three to five days of waiting while the science does whatever the science does, then we’ll know.

God, I want to be sick.

We file back into the waiting room and I walk toward the exit without looking at any of them.

“Valentina.” Cillian’s low voice is behind me.

I keep walking, refusing to dignify him with a response.

“Valentina.” He’s closer now, then his hand rests on my arm, gentle, not restraining. Fire courses up my arm from his touch, my body screaming for more contact. “Please. Two minutes. Just⁠—”