Chapter 4 Paternity Report = Judgment Day

Three days of avoiding Merrick felt like an eternity. I kept to my room as much as possible, emerging only when necessary and timing my appearances to minimize the chance of encountering him. Rachel had become my lifeline, bringing groceries and prenatal vitamins since I couldn't access my accounts.

"You can't hide forever," she said, perched on the edge of my bed while I picked at the salad she'd brought. "This house isn't that big."

"Watch me try," I muttered, stabbing a cherry tomato with unnecessary force. "I'm not giving him the satisfaction of another confrontation."

Rachel studied me with concern. "Have you considered that maybe you should talk to him? If he is the father—"

"Then what?" I interrupted. "We play happy families? He manipulated this entire situation, Rachel. He showed me the video like it was some kind of trophy."

"I still don't understand what he gets out of this," she mused. "If it's just about sex—"

"It's not," I said firmly. "This is about something bigger. My mother practically admitted it."

A knock at my bedroom door made us both jump. I held my breath, fearing it was Merrick, but my mother's voice called out instead.

"Siena? There's a package for you."

Rachel raised her eyebrows. "Expecting something?"

I wasn't, which made my heart race with apprehension. Opening the door, I found my mother holding a manila envelope, her expression tense.

"This came by courier," she said, handing it over. "Marked urgent."

The return address was from the private lab. The paternity results.

"Thank you," I managed, starting to close the door.

My mother's hand shot out, preventing me. "Siena," she said, her voice low. "Whatever that is, whatever you discover... be careful."

For a moment, genuine concern flashed in her eyes. Then she glanced past me to Rachel and her mask of indifference slipped back into place. Without another word, she turned and walked away.

I closed the door and leaned against it, the envelope burning in my hands.

"Is that what I think it is?" Rachel asked.

"The paternity test." I stared at the sealed envelope. "But I never submitted a comparison sample. How could they have results?"

Rachel's expression darkened. "Someone must have provided a sample. Someone who knew you were testing."

Merrick. It had to be. But how had he known which lab I'd used?

With trembling fingers, I tore open the envelope and unfolded the clinical-looking document inside. My eyes scanned the technical language, settling on the conclusion at the bottom:

*Probability of paternity: 99.8%*

The room tilted slightly.

"Siena?" Rachel's voice seemed to come from far away. "What does it say?"

I handed her the paper wordlessly, sinking onto the edge of my bed.

"Son of a bitch," she whispered after reading it. "He knew. He's been playing with you this whole time."

Anger began to replace my shock—a burning, clarifying fury that pushed away confusion and fear. Merrick had known all along. He'd orchestrated this entire situation, right down to ensuring the paternity test confirmed what he already knew to be true.

"I'm going to confront him," I decided, standing abruptly.

Rachel grabbed my arm. "Siena, wait. Think this through. That's what he wants."

"Good," I snapped, pulling free. "Let him have what he wants. And let me have the satisfaction of wiping that smug smile off his face."

Before she could stop me, I was out the door and striding down the hallway toward the east wing. My fury propelled me forward, the paternity report clutched in my fist like a weapon.

I didn't bother knocking. I threw open the door to his suite, half-expecting to find him waiting for me, but the sitting room was empty. I moved toward the bedroom door, then stopped short as I heard the shower running in the adjoining bathroom.

My anger momentarily derailed, I hesitated, suddenly aware of the intimacy of bursting in on him. But as I turned to leave and wait, something on his desk caught my eye: a folder, open, revealing what looked like legal documents.

Curiosity overrode hesitation. I moved closer, careful to listen for the shower turning off. The document on top was titled "Certificate of Marriage" with blank spaces for signatures.

My heart nearly stopped. A marriage certificate? Already prepared?

I rifled through the papers beneath it—financial disclosures, property agreements, even medical forms authorizing access to my records. All prepared, all waiting only for signatures.

He'd planned everything. Not just the pregnancy, but what came after. He intended to marry me, had prepared for it before the paternity test results were even confirmed.

The shower shut off abruptly. I froze, papers still in hand, as the bathroom door opened and Merrick emerged with a towel wrapped around his waist, water still glistening on his chest and shoulders.

He stopped when he saw me, surprise flickering across his features before a slow smile spread across his face.

"Breaking and entering now, Siena?" His voice was casual, as if finding me in his room was a minor but not unpleasant surprise.

I held up the marriage certificate. "What is this?"

"Exactly what it looks like." He moved to his closet, seemingly unconcerned about his state of undress. "Insurance for our child's future."

"Our child?" I threw the paternity report at him. It fluttered to the floor between us. "How convenient that you already knew the results before I did."

Merrick glanced at the paper but didn't pick it up. "Did you really think I wouldn't confirm what I already knew to be true?"

"How did you even find out which lab I used?"

He selected a shirt from his closet, his back to me. "You're not as careful as you think. Your friend Rachel called the lab from her cell phone while you were inside giving your sample. It wasn't difficult to track."

The casual way he admitted to violating my privacy made my blood boil. "So you what—went there and claimed to be the potential father? Submitted your DNA?"

"Something like that." He turned back to me, still bare-chested but now with pants on. "Does it matter? The truth is the truth, regardless of how we arrived at it."

"And this?" I gestured at the marriage certificate. "Were you ever going to discuss this with me, or just assume I'd fall in line with your plans?"

Merrick approached slowly, his expression softening into something almost genuine. "I was going to propose properly. After you'd come to terms with the paternity."

"Propose?" I laughed bitterly. "You can't be serious."

"Why not? It's the logical next step. We're having a child together. We're about to become family through our parents' marriage anyway."

"That's your idea of romance? Logical next steps?"

Something flashed in his eyes—annoyance or perhaps hurt. "Would you prefer grand gestures? Flowers and proclamations of undying love? We're beyond that, Siena."

"We were never there to begin with," I countered. "One night that I can't even remember doesn't constitute a relationship."

He moved closer, and I forced myself not to back away. "Then perhaps we should create some memories you won't forget."

The intensity in his eyes made my heart race, though I couldn't tell if from fear or something else entirely. "Stay away from me."

"That's going to be difficult, considering our living arrangements." His fingers brushed my arm, feather-light. "And our future together."

I jerked away from his touch. "There is no future together. I won't marry you, Merrick."

"Won't you?" He gestured to the papers on the desk. "Your options are rather limited at the moment. No money, no home of your own, a child on the way... what exactly is your plan?"

"I'll figure something out," I insisted, though panic clawed at my chest as the reality of my situation sank in.

Merrick's smile was almost sympathetic. "I'm sure you will. But in the meantime, consider my offer. Marriage to me would solve all your immediate problems."

"And create a lifetime of new ones," I shot back.

He laughed, the sound genuine. "You're not wrong. But at least you'd face them with financial security and your child's future guaranteed."

I stared at him, trying to decipher what lay behind those calculating blue eyes. Was there any genuine feeling there, or was I simply a means to an end?

"Why me?" I asked finally. "If this is about securing an heir, you could have chosen anyone. Why go through all this trouble?"

Merrick studied me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he reached out, his fingers trailing along my jawline in a touch so gentle it made me shiver.

"Because from the moment I saw you," he said softly, "I knew you were mine."

The possessiveness in his voice should have repulsed me. Instead, it sent a treacherous heat through my body, a response I couldn't control or deny.

"I'm not a possession," I whispered, hating how weak my protest sounded.

"No," he agreed, his thumb brushing my lower lip. "You're much more valuable than that."

I pulled away, needing distance from his intoxicating presence. "I need time. To think."

"Take all the time you need." He gestured toward the marriage certificate with casual confidence. "But know this, Siena—I've planned too carefully to let you slip away now."

His certainty infuriated me. "You think you've thought of everything, don't you? That I'll eventually give in because I have no choice?"

"Everyone has choices," Merrick replied, his voice calm. "I've simply ensured that marrying me is your best one."

I backed toward the door, needing to escape before I did something foolish—like slap him, or worse, kiss him to see if it would trigger my buried memories.

"You're wrong," I said, grasping for a final word. "I'll find another way."

Merrick's smile was patient, as if humoring a child. "Until then, the offer stands."

As I turned to leave, his voice stopped me once more.

"One more thing, Siena." His tone had changed, become softer, almost vulnerable. "I didn't plan on the child. That part... that was fate's doing, not mine."

I didn't turn back, couldn't let him see how his words affected me. Instead, I walked away, the paternity report left crumpled on his floor, the knowledge of what it meant heavy in my heart.

He was the father of my child. And he had known all along, waiting patiently for me to discover what he had already planned for—my inevitable surrender to the future he had designed.