“Can I help you, ma’am?” she asked.

“I was looking for the restroom,” I said, keeping my voice level.

“It’s just around the corner to the left,” she said, pointing down the carpeted hallway.

“Thank you,” I said.

I walked quickly in the direction she pointed, my heels making soft thuds on the thick rug.

Once I was around the corner, I ducked into the single-occupancy restroom and locked the heavy oak door.

The air inside smelled faintly of expensive lavender and eucalyptus soap.

My hands were shaking so hard I almost dropped my phone as I stared at the PDF screen.

It was a prenatal genetic screening report from the Kensington Private Hospital laboratory.

The patient name was indeed Courtney Briggs.

The doctor of record was listed as Dr. Aris.

I scrolled down to the section labeled *Paternity Analysis*.

The text was clear, cold, and entirely unambiguous.

*Alleged Father 1: Jared Harlan.*

*Probability of Paternity: 0.00%.*

*Alleged Father 2: Carter Vance.*

*Probability of Paternity: 99.99%.*

My chest tightened, and for a second, I forgot how to breathe.