“Yes,” he said. “I swapped your sons’ cheek swabs with a donor profile.”

My chest tightened.

“They are my sons,” I said.

“They are yours, Rowan,” Vance said. “They always were.”

The sheer weight of his words hit me like a physical blow.

Three years of exile, of pain, of believing my marriage was a lie.

It had all been engineered in this room.

“You ruined our lives for money,” I said.

“Tessa funded our entire research wing,” he said. “She threatened to pull the grants if I didn’t comply.”

I unmuted the phone.

“Tessa,” I said into the receiver.

“Are you finished with your little interrogation?” she asked.

“I have the drive,” I said. “I have Vance’s confession.”

“You have a dying man’s desperate lies,” she said.

“We will see what the federal authorities think,” I said.

Tessa laughed, a cold and dry sound.

“You have to get out of the compound first, Rowan,” she said.

The line went dead.

On the monitor, Tessa lowered her phone.

She gestured to the guards behind Maren.

They grabbed Maren by her arms and dragged her toward the heavy double doors.