The Heir They Tried to Erase

Dr. Vance’s hands hesitated over the portable sequencing machine for a fraction of a second—a micro-expression that didn't escape Arthur’s eagle eyes.

“That is highly irregular, Arthur,” Vance said, recovering his composure quickly. “The court order specifically demands a sample from the child.”

“Run the sample, Doctor,” Arthur ordered, his stocky frame leaning over the table, his light-blue eyes locking onto Vance with predatory intensity. “Or I will have my security team hold you in this room while I call the Swiss Medical Board and ask why a doctor who was struck off the register in Geneva three years ago is still signing federal court orders in New York.”

A heavy silence fell over the room. Upstairs, on the balcony, Julian and Beatrice exchanged a quick, uncertain glance.

Vance swallowed hard. Knowing he had no choice, he took the cotton swab from Arthur, placed it into the analyzer’s slot, and pressed the sequence button.

The machine hummed to life, blue light pulsing through its glass chamber as it processed the genetic markers.

PROCESSING... 25%... 50%... 75%...

BEEP. MATCH FOUND IN GLOBAL REPOSITORY.

The digital screen on the machine flashed bright green, displaying a detailed DNA profile along with a registered name and file number.

Dr. Vance looked down at the screen, and his face turned as white as the cake frosting on the floor.

“This… this can’t be,” Vance stammered, his clinical voice completely shattering.

“Read it aloud, Harrison,” Arthur commanded, his voice booming like thunder through the hall. “Read whose blood was in Thomas’s coffin!”