Chapter 4 - The Whispers Behind Closed Doors
Rosalie stared at him, her chest heaving slightly under the gray cardigan. "What did you say?"
"The lab that ran our test shut down. The technician disappeared with a payout. The records were destroyed," Tristan explained, his words tumbling out rapidly, stripped of his usual executive polish. "Rosalie, I didn't question it back then. I was an idiot. My father had just had a stroke, Sabine’s family was applying pressure on the board, and I trusted paper over the woman I loved. I was a coward. But seeing Leo last night... I know. In my gut, I know."
Rosalie let out a bitter, humorless laugh that cut deeper than any insult could have. "You trusted paper over me. How generous of you to admit that now, three years after the fact, when it suits your sudden burst of curiosity."
"Mommy?"
A small voice piped up from behind her. Leo padded down the hallway in dinosaur pajamas, clutching a worn stuffed bear with one ear missing. He rubbed his eyes with the back of a chubby wrist and peered around his mother’s leg at the tall stranger.
Tristan’s gaze dropped to the child, and the fierce, overwhelming tenderness that struck him nearly brought him to his knees. "Hey there, buddy," he whispered, his voice cracking.
"Leo, go back to the kitchen and finish your oatmeal, please," Rosalie said gently, not taking her eyes off Tristan. The boy hesitated, then nodded and scampered back toward the smell of cinnamon.
Rosalie stepped out onto the porch, pulling the front door nearly shut behind her. "You want to talk about faked tests? Let’s talk about that night, Tristan. When that paper arrived, you didn't even look me in the eye. You stood at the window of your father’s office with your hands in your pockets while his corporate sharks threatened to have me blacklisted from every communications firm in the state. You let them tell me I was an opportunistic gold digger."
"I was destroyed, Rosalie!" Tristan burst out, stepping closer, his gray eyes pleading. "I thought you had betrayed me! I thought everything we had was a lie!"
"And you thought I was capable of that?" she countered, her voice trembling with righteous fury. "You knew me for fourteen months. We slept in the same bed. We talked about having a garden. We talked about naming a child after your grandfather. And the second a piece of paper told you I was a liar, you didn't ask a single question. You chose your family’s legacy. You chose Sabine Crowell."
Tristan swallowed hard, the taste of bile in his throat. "I will sign anything you want. I will give you full legal custody, I will put fifty million dollars into a trust in Leo’s name that you control entirely. I just need to know the truth. Please, Rosalie. Let me do a swab test. If it’s negative, I will walk away and you will never see my face again. But if it’s positive... I need to be his father."
Rosalie leaned against the porch railing, her arms crossed tight against the morning chill. She looked at him for a long, quiet minute, studying the lines etched around his eyes, the tension radiating from his broad shoulders. He wasn't the untouchable prince of Seattle high society this morning; he was a broken man begging for mercy.
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"Fine," Rosalie whispered coldly. "We'll do the test. But not with your doctors. Not with your private labs. We do it at Seattle Children's Hospital, under my pediatrician’s supervision, with a neutral legal courier. And until those results are in my hands, Tristan, you stay away from my son."
"Agreed," Tristan said without a second's hesitation. "Whatever you want. I'll be there."
