13. The Test Results
13
THE TEST RESULTS
RICHARD
Vivian trembled beside me as her ex stormed out of the building—her grip on my shirt tight and her breathing erratic. “Oh no, he’s headed to the hospital—I just know it. But Paris is sleeping—” she began, panic lacing her voice.
Before she could finish, I grabbed her hand and bolted. “Then let’s beat him there.”
My driver, dependable and waiting in the car parked across the portico, saw us coming, leapt in, and started the engine. Once inside, I barked, “That taxi that just left? I’ll double your pay if you get us to the hospital before him.”
“Yes, sir!” he replied without hesitation. He delivered on his promise, and we arrived with a minute to spare, sprinting out just as the taxi pulled up.
“Call security,” I ordered the nurse at the reception desk as we hurried past. “Send them to the purple floor.” Clutching Vivian’s hand, we raced up the flights of stairs, the ascent worse than the steps to the Montmartre in Paris.
Gasping for breath at the top, she cautioned, “He has a right to see his daughter, Richard. I’d just prefer he wait until morning when she’s awake.”
“I agree,” I replied, though inwardly, I wished I could keep him away forever.
At the nurses’ station, where some night nurses were talking with Keaton, their conversation halted in surprise at our frantic arrival.
“My ex-husband is on his way here,” Vivian shrieked.
“Adrien?” Keaton’s expression turned from confusion to anger as he pressed his fist into the palm of the other hand. “Great. Let me be the one to welcome him back to the USA.”
“Get in line, Keaton,” I snapped as, with Vivian between us, we formed a united front in the hall against the approaching threat. The elevator doors slid open, and Adrien stepped out, spotting us. He ambled forward with a cocky smirk, deliberately stalling the inevitable confrontation.
“Sir, are you a relative? We only allow relatives after visiting hours,” Sara, the head night nurse, calmly addressed him.
“I am Paris Bardeaux’s father, and nothing will keep me from seeing her. Step aside,” he shouted, peppering his words with extra French slang.
“Please, Adrien. Paris is sleeping. You know she’s been ill and needs her rest. Let’s return in the morning so you can see her.”
Ignoring Vivian’s plea, he pointed at me. “Only relatives? He should not be here then.”
“His brother married my cousin, so he is a relative,” she explained to the nurse.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I hissed.
“And as her father, I have a say in who stays in her room, oui? ” he demanded.
Sara shot me an apologetic look, as if my VIP status only carries me so far. “Yes, you do.”
“Then both of them need to leave,” he commanded, nodding toward Keaton and me.
“Wait a minute—I’m her uncle, directly related. I should be allowed to stay,” Keaton protested.
Vivian’s glare was sharper than any knife as she declared, “I have a say too, and they’re both staying.”
At that moment, a burly man in a blue jacket emblazoned with the word ‘SECURITY’ strode forward; his name tag read Floyd. “Hospital rules permit only one parent to stay overnight. You have five minutes to decide who that will be before I break up this little gathering,” he addressed us sternly.
Adrien retorted, pounding his fist on the nurse’s desk. “ Je suis arrivé— I deserve to stay. I have not even seen my little Paris yet, ma fille! ”
Vivian countered sharply. “Oh, now you suddenly care about her? Why haven’t you been taking my calls?”
“Sir, you’re not wearing the mandatory hospital bracelet for parents or guardians. I need proper identification before we proceed,” Floyd demanded. I silently promised myself to give him a thousand dollars tomorrow for that reprieve.
While Adrien fumbled for his passport, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Dr. Ferguson waving me over. I took Vivian’s hand, and we shuffled toward him. “I was working late and couldn’t help but overhear your conversation. We need to discuss something that directly impacts this situation,” he began, adjusting his thick glasses.
“What is it, doctor?” I urged, keeping a wary eye on Adrien, although Keaton stood there solid and scowling, his arms crossed, watching the asshole’s every move.
“Some test results came in tonight. I was going to wait until morning to share them, but…” He flipped open Paris’s medical chart and continued, “According to the paternity analysis?—”
“Paternity?” Vivian interrupted, gripping my arm, worry etched on her face.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before now that I was having the doctor run the test. But I just had to be sure. I was a perfect match for Paris’ blood, so I couldn’t shake the thought. What if…?” I turned back to the doctor. “And the results are?”
He cleared his throat. “You are the father, Richard. No doubt about that.”
I expelled the breath I was holding, a broad grin spreading across my face as I whispered, “I have a child.”
“Oh, my God. I had no idea. I swear to you,” Vivian cried.
I pulled her into a tight embrace, as she murmured, “I went back to Adrien shortly after we were together… I just thought… but the timing… oh, my God.”
“Shh, sweetheart. It’s fine. The past is done. We’re here now and that’s all that matters. She’s mine. She’s really mine,” I reassured her, unable to wipe the smile from my face.
“What’s going on?” Keaton called over, prompting me to briefly let go of Vivian, though I kept a steady hold of her hand for reassurance.
Dr. Ferguson then announced in a clear voice, “The paternity test confirms that Richard Buchanan is Paris’s father.”
“ Non, non! This is outrageous,” Adrien roared as he advanced on Vivian. I pushed her behind me, ready to defend. Only Floyd swiftly grabbed him and held him back.
Parents poked their heads out of their rooms, drawn by the commotion. I stole a quick glance at Paris’ closed door, hoping she wasn’t hearing any of this. What would she do seeing the man who was supposed to be her father reacting in such a way? Would she cry over him? Miss him? Feel abandoned when he left?
“Liar! La menteuse! You swore that you and Richard never slept together,” Adrien bellowed, his face flushed with anger. It then took both Floyd and Keaton to hold him back.
“Sir, I’m going to have to remove you from the premises for causing a disturbance,” Floyd commanded. Adrien’s resistance proved strong, struggling against the big guard, when another guard appeared.
“I’m so sorry, Adrien.” Vivian broke down into tears, dropping her face into her hands.
“You don’t owe that asshole any kind of apology,” I advised her.
“She is not mine? Then I want my money back. All of it or I will sue you, Viv,” Adrien snapped.
I stepped forward, getting right up into his face.
“Money? Name your price and I’ll have it transferred to you within the hour, but then you stay the hell away from us. Do you understand me?” I glared with steely eyes.
With a smug smirk, he declared, “Five million dollars.”
A gasp came from behind me as Vivian interjected, “You never paid me that much—not even close. Twenty thousand over the past few years, if that. I can call my bank tomorrow and verify the exact amount.”
“ Non, this is for the deal you both ruined. Because Richard cancelled a lucrative deal with Club Aces that could have saved me from financial disaster, and I have not yet fully recovered.” He turned his glare on Vivian next. “And because you have only brought me bad luck since the day we met. So my price is five million. You pay, then I will leave the country tonight.”
“Five million? Done.” I shrugged at the amount, a drop compared to the wealth I’d amassed over the years and my family trust to boot. “I’ll get your number from Vivian and someone from my team will be in touch within the hour. Now get the hell out of my sight.”
“Wait,” Vivian shrieked, moving toward him. “Adrien, for six years, my little girl knew you as her father. You can’t just leave tonight. Please, stay until the morning and say goodbye to her. We can all figure this out like adults. The most important things are for Paris to understand that none of this was her fault and not feel abandoned.”
He snorted and muttered French expletives under his breath. I understood Vivian’s plea, though I wished she hadn’t suggested he stay—as if I’d ever let him near my daughter, anyway.
“She is not mine. Why should I care to say goodbye?” he sneered, turning his back on the idea.
“You fucking asshole,” I snarled, clenching my fist, wanting to hurt him in the worst way. That wouldn’t do to start out as Paris’ father with an assault scandal on my hands.
Instead, I nodded at Floyd, who, along with the other guard, ushered Adrien away. I quickly texted my driver outside, instructing him to follow Adrien’s every move and report back hourly until he left the country for good.
Vivian reeled and collapsed into my arms, tears streaming down her face. I lifted her and carried her toward Paris’ room.
Keaton opened the door for us, and I stepped directly to the bed. “It’s going to be okay, Vivian. Look—there’s our daughter, our little sleeping beauty,” I whispered, trying to soothe her as I gestured toward our girl, curled up in a little ball in the center of the mattress.
“I’ll give you some privacy,” Keaton said and headed back out. I could hear him addressing things with the nurses while I sat down on the sleeper chair with Vivian on my lap. As she wept, I held her close.
Nurse Sara brought a box of tissues and a cup of chamomile tea, while Dr. Ferguson stopped by to reassure us that Paris would be fine and that children were remarkably resilient.
“I promise I’ll get the best referral from Dr. Remington for child therapists for Paris if she needs it. But she won’t miss Adrien. You’ll see. I’ll be the best father she’s ever had. She won’t even remember him.” I vowed to back up every promise. “Please don’t be upset with me. I never would have broken the paternity news to you like that tonight. It all got out of hand with Adrien showing up.”
“Oh, no. I’m not upset with you. I’m furious with myself,” she admitted, clutching her chest and trembling. “How could I have been so wrong about who her father was? I was young and na?ve then, blinded by what I thought was love. I bought every lie Adrien told me after I found out I was pregnant. Every promise he gave that he’d be better. I made such a mess of things.”
“Hey, I don’t think any less of you for the past, okay? There’s no way to change it. Will it be messy figuring all this out? Yeah. But we’ll survive it, baby—together. I’ll make sure of it. From now on, you and Paris have every Buchanan resource at your disposal.”
After a long pause, she lifted her head and met my gaze. “I don’t need every Buchanan. I just need you.” Her hand cupped my cheek, and I gazed into her bright blue eyes, a pair I could lose myself in forever. Exactly what I desired most.
I couldn’t resist and gently kissed her lips. My heart beat wildly out of my chest the same as when we kissed at the hotel. “Was it like this the first time when we stood under the Eiffel Tower?”
“This was better.” Her lips curved, her face glowed. I never wanted to forget this moment.
Footsteps approached, and Keaton appeared in the doorway. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
I waved him in, continuing to speak in hushed tones. “Did Adrien leave?”
“Yeah. Floyd said they got him into the taxi. Do you think we should call the police or get a restraining order?” He asked.
“I have my driver following him. We’ll keep tabs on him until he’s gone. We can call if there are any further problems, but I know he’s money motivated. Once he has it in hand, I’m certain he won’t bother us.” I peered at Vivian in my arms, whose exhaustion from the day suddenly wore on her face.
“Five million is too much to give him.” Vivian shook her head.
“But I would have given him my entire fortune, baby, just to make sure he disappeared for good.”
“Everything?”
“It’s only money.” A man like me, with no money, but all the experience I gained, would be able to rebuild, without a doubt. I remained that self-assured. “You and Paris mean more to me than the balance in my bank account.”
“You two have a lot to discuss. Go back to the suite. I’ll stay.” Keaton offered.
“Yes, good idea. I’ll talk to Nurse Sara about it,” she agreed, rising and moving to Paris’ side. She gently pulled the blanket over Paris, and together we admired our sleeping beauty.
“My daughter,” I whispered, the words so new to me.
“ Our daughter,” she insisted, covering my hand with hers.
“Yes. Ours.”