Chapter 2 The Lie of Sperm

## Chapter 2: The Lie of Sperm

The media storm hit with the force of a hurricane. By morning, my face was plastered across every news outlet in the country: "CANTRELL HEIR SCANDAL: CHILD NOT BIOLOGICAL SON." The headlines grew more salacious by the hour as reporters dug deeper into the family's secrets.

I watched it all unfold from my penthouse apartment, sipping coffee as morning light streamed through floor-to-ceiling windows. The view of the city below reminded me of how far I'd climbed since that blood-soaked delivery room floor.

"Ms. Morton," my assistant said, entering with a tablet, "Ernest Cantrell has called seventeen times in the past hour."

"And?"

"And his father's attorney has called twice."

I smiled. Old man Cantrell was finally getting involved. The puppet master forced to step onto the stage.

"Tell them both I'm unavailable," I replied, scrolling through the headlines on my phone. "I'm quite busy enjoying the press coverage."

The truth was, I'd been planning this moment for three years. Every detail calculated, every move anticipated. The Cantrells thought they were chess masters, but they'd never realized they were playing against someone who'd memorized all their moves before the game even began.

My phone buzzed with a text from an unlisted number: "I need to see you. Hospital. Now. -E"

I took my time finishing my coffee, changing into a crisp white suit, and applying my makeup with precision. The Cantrells had kept me waiting for years. Ernest could wait a few hours.

---

The private hospital wing reeked of wealth and desperation. Security guards nodded at me—I'd made sure they were on my payroll, not the Cantrells'. The nurse led me not to Thomas's room as I'd expected, but to a consultation room where Ernest sat alone, his head in his hands.

He looked up when I entered, and for a moment, I barely recognized him. The polished businessman was gone, replaced by a hollow-eyed stranger.

"You came," he said, voice rough.

"Curiosity," I replied, remaining standing. "How is the boy?"

Something flashed in Ernest's eyes—perhaps the first genuine emotion I'd ever seen from him. "His name is Thomas, and he's fighting. The doctors are still searching international donor registries, but—"

"But nothing matches like family," I finished. "Too bad he doesn't seem to have much of that."

Ernest slammed his fist on the table. "Enough games! What do you want, Ava? Name your price for the bone marrow donation."

I laughed, the sound bouncing off the sterile walls. "Oh, Ernest. You still think this is about money? After everything your family took from me?"

"We paid you—"

"You paid me for a service," I cut him off. "Like hiring a surrogate. Except I wasn't a surrogate, was I? I was your wife. A wife you married knowing you could never give her children naturally."

The color drained from Ernest's face.

"What are you talking about?"

The door opened, and a thin, balding man entered, visibly trembling. Dr. Harrison, Ernest's personal physician for the past decade.

"You brought him," I noted. "Good. That saves time."

Ernest stood. "Harrison, tell her she's insane. Tell her about my fertility treatments, the specialists—"

Dr. Harrison couldn't meet either of our eyes. "Mr. Cantrell, I—I can't continue this charade."

I pulled out a chair and sat down, enjoying the moment. "Go ahead, Doctor. Tell him what you told me last week when my investigators found you."

The doctor's hands shook as he placed a medical file on the table. "Mr. Cantrell, you have azoospermia—a complete absence of sperm in your semen. You always have. The condition is congenital and untreatable."

Ernest stared at him in disbelief. "That's impossible. We did treatments—"

"We pretended to do treatments," Harrison interrupted, his professional demeanor crumbling. "Your father knew about your condition since you were eighteen. He ordered me to keep it from you."

I watched as the reality crashed over Ernest. His legs gave out, and he collapsed back into his chair.

"If I can't produce sperm, then how..."

Dr. Harrison glanced at me nervously before continuing. "Your father arranged everything. When you and Ava began fertility treatments, he provided the... the sample."

"Sample?" Ernest repeated dumbly.

"He said it had to be Cantrell DNA," Harrison continued. "He used your brother Blake's frozen sperm."

The color returned to Ernest's face in a rush of fury. He grabbed the doctor by his lab coat. "My brother? You impregnated my wife with my brother's sperm without my knowledge?"

I cleared my throat. "Actually, that's not entirely accurate."

Both men turned to me.

"What?" Ernest demanded.

I opened my purse and removed a small tablet. "Your father did insist on Cantrell DNA, but not your brother's. Blake's samples were... compromised. Isn't that right, Doctor?"

Harrison seemed to shrink before our eyes. "Ms. Morton, please—"

"The truth, Doctor. Or shall I call the medical board myself?"

The physician wiped sweat from his brow. "It's true. Blake's samples were unusable due to a freezer malfunction. Mr. Cantrell Senior... he provided his own sample as a last resort."

The silence that followed was deafening. Ernest's face went through a kaleidoscope of emotions: confusion, disbelief, and finally, horror.

"My father?" he whispered. "Thomas is my father's son?"

"Half-brother, technically," I corrected.

Ernest lunged at the doctor, but I'd anticipated this. My security detail—men who had been silently positioned outside—entered immediately, restraining him.

"You knew?" Ernest snarled at me as the guards held him back. "You knew all along?"

"Not at first," I admitted. "I discovered the truth during my second trimester. One of the nurses let it slip that the 'donor' was significantly older than you. I bribed a lab technician for the details."

"And you said nothing?" The betrayal in his voice almost made me laugh.

"Why would I? You and your family made it abundantly clear that I was nothing but a vessel. A means to an end."

Ernest struggled against the security guards. "I'll destroy you for this. When my father—"

"Your father already knows I'm here," I interrupted. "In fact, I suspect he's about to make quite an entrance."

As if on cue, the door opened again. The patriarch of the Cantrell empire, Theodore Cantrell, stood in the doorway, flanked by his own security team. At seventy-two, he still cut an imposing figure—tall, silver-haired, with the same steel-blue eyes as his son and grandson.

"Ava," he acknowledged with a slight nod. "I see you've been busy."

"Theodore," I replied with equal coolness. "Just clearing up some family matters."

The old man's gaze fell on his son, still restrained by my security. "Ernest. You disappoint me. Making a public spectacle of our family."

"I disappoint you?" Ernest's voice rose hysterically. "You—you used my wife to breed yourself another son!"

Theodore waved dismissively. "The Cantrell line needed an heir with pure Cantrell DNA. Your... deficiency... left us with limited options."

"Pure Cantrell DNA?" I couldn't help but interject. "Is that what you call incest these days?"

Theodore's eyes narrowed. "It was a medical procedure, not incest. And it served its purpose. Thomas carries the Cantrell genetic legacy—"

"Thomas is dying!" Ernest shouted.

"Perhaps," I said, "but not for the reasons you think."

All eyes turned to me.

"What are you talking about?" Theodore demanded.

I smiled coldly. "Did you really think I wouldn't have a contingency plan? That I would simply disappear after you stole my child?"

I nodded to one of my security guards, who stepped forward with another tablet. On the screen was a live video feed from Thomas's hospital room, where the boy lay sleeping, attached to monitors.

"Thomas doesn't have leukemia," I stated calmly. "He has a rare autoimmune condition that presents with similar symptoms. One that will resolve itself in approximately..." I checked my watch, "three weeks."

Ernest lunged at me again, but my guards held firm. "You faked his illness? You monster!"

"I created a medical emergency that would force a genetic test," I corrected. "The only monsters here are the men who thought they could use women's bodies without consequences."

Theodore stepped further into the room, his face a mask of controlled fury. "Whatever game you're playing, Ava, it ends now. Name your price."

I stood, smoothing my white suit. "Oh, Theodore. This isn't about money. This is about truth. And speaking of truth..."

I pressed a button on my phone. The hospital room's speakers crackled to life, and suddenly the room filled with my voice, broadcasting to the entire floor:

"Correction: The sperm used to conceive Thomas Cantrell didn't come from Blake Cantrell. It came directly from Theodore Cantrell himself—father to Ernest and grandfather to the child. DNA tests confirm Thomas is Theodore's biological son, not Ernest's."

Theodore's face drained of color as my announcement echoed through the hospital corridors. Outside the room, we could hear the commotion as reporters who had been camping in the lobby began to run toward the source of the announcement.

"You've just destroyed this family," Theodore said quietly.

"No," I replied, walking to the door. "You did that when you decided I was nothing more than a surrogate without my consent."

As I opened the door to leave, Theodore suddenly clutched his chest, his face contorting in pain. He staggered backward, collapsing into a chair as his security team rushed to his side.

"Call a doctor!" someone shouted.

I paused in the doorway, watching the old man struggle for breath. Heart attack, most likely. Not unexpected for a man his age under extreme stress.

"By the way," I added, as chaos erupted around us, "I have your will, Theodore. The real one. Not the public version your attorneys drafted."

His eyes, wide with pain and shock, locked with mine.

"Your bodyguard Jenkins was surprisingly easy to bribe," I continued. "He's been working for me for months. The will is safe... for now."

As medical staff rushed in with a crash cart, I stepped into the hallway, where cameras flashed and reporters shouted questions. The Cantrell empire was crumbling before my eyes, and I hadn't even deployed my biggest weapon yet.

The truth about Thomas was just the beginning.