“I want a full audit on Dr. Lionel Mercer.”

“Look into his clinic’s financial records and past patients.”

“I want to know how many other families he ruined for a fee.”

“I’m on it,” Marcus said.

“But Adrian, we need the DNA test results first.”

“Without them, we have no legal standing to challenge anything.”

“I will arrange it today,” I said.

I dialed Maren’s number.

She answered on the fourth ring.

“Adrian?” her voice was quiet, cautious.

“Maren, we need to do the DNA test,” I said.

“For the legal strategy, and to prove to the court—and to you—the absolute truth.”

There was a long silence on the other end.

“I know it’s hard,” I added.

“But my mother’s lawyers will tear us apart if we don’t have airtight proof.”

“Where?” she asked.

“A private clinic in Portland,” I said.

“I’ve already booked a secure room.”

“No one will see us enter or leave.”

“Alright,” she said softly.

“We will be there tomorrow at ten.”

The next morning was cold and rainy.

A gray mist hung over the Maine coastline as I drove north.