“Why?”
“Because Vanessa and I were discussing having children.”
That sentence hurt more than I expected.
He continued.
“She asked me to have a fertility evaluation.”
I said nothing.
“The doctor asked about my previous medical history.”
He looked at the house.
“That’s when I found out something.”
“What?”
“My fertility numbers were extremely low.”
I felt my stomach tighten.
He looked back at me.
“The doctor said there was almost no chance I could naturally father children.”
I stared.
“But you did.”
He nodded.
“Apparently.”
“And that still doesn’t explain why you suddenly believe me.”
He reached into his coat.
Then handed me a folded document.
I opened it.
A DNA test.
Four names.
Four matches.
99.99% probability of biological fatherhood.
I looked up.
“You tested them?”
“No.”
“Then what is this?”
“My own test.”
He had compared his DNA with the medical samples kept from the pregnancy.
