Chapter 23
Vanessa stormed out of the clinic room, her trainers creaking sharply against the vinyl floor, but Cadi barely registered it.
She exhaled slowly, closing her eyes as a dull throbbing pain bloomed at the base of her skull.
A migraine.
Great.
She pressed her fingers against her temples, willing the tension to ease, but then—
Her phone vibrated in her pocket.
She didn't need to check the screen.
She already knew who it was.
Slowly, she picked up.
"Cadi..." Gray's voice was rough, strained.
"I just got the email."
Cadi's breath caught.
Her fingers tightened around the phone.
"Have ya opened it?" Gray asked.
"No." Her voice was clipped, controlled.
A beat of silence.
Then—"Can I come to ya?"
Cadi's stomach twisted. She didn't want him in her space, where her anger could wane too easily.
"No."
Another pause.
Then—"I'll meet you at the house."
House.
Not home.
Gray inhaled sharply, but he didn't argue.
"Alright."
Cadi ended the call before either of them could say anything else.
She barely remembered the ride home.
The city blurred past, the buildings, the streets—nothing felt real.
She pulled into the driveway, cutting the engine,bracing herself.
Her lungs burned—she hadn't even realized she had been holding her breath.
The air rushed out of her in a single, shaky exhale, her hands gripping the steering wheel tight enough to turn her knuckles white.
Then, slowly, she stepped out.
Gray was already waiting inside.
He looked... frozen.
His hands were clenched into fists, his shoulders stiff, his phone lying face-up on the coffee table.
Cadi wordlessly walked in, using her key to unlock the front door—just like she had so many times before.
Only this time, it felt wrong.
She wasn't stepping into their home.
She was stepping into a place she used to belong.
She stood by the door, her arms folded, eyes locked onto him.
Gray just stared at the phone.
Motionless.
Cadi sat facing him, her expression grim.
Cadi let the silence stretch before finally, losing patience.
"Just open it, Gray."
His hands trembled slightly as he picked up the phone.
"DNA isolation was carried out separately for all samples. Genetic characteristics were determined by the following PCR-single-locus-technology analysis..."
His voice was tight, the words running together, his stress seeping through each syllable.
Then, his breath hitched, and he skipped to the bottom.
His voice wavered as he read—
"The probability of Mr. Gray Callahan being the biological father of Tomos Callahan is > 99.9999%."
A pause.
His fingers clenched.
His throat bobbed.
Then, finally, the last line—
"Conclusion: Based on our analysis, it is practically proven that Mr. Gray Callahan is the biological father of the child, Tomos Callahan."
Gray let out a sharp exhale, his entire body slumping with relief.
For a moment, there was nothing but joy.
The overwhelming, bone-deep certainty that Tomos was his—that he always had been.
That he hadn't lost his boy.
A breathless laugh escaped him, and his eyes burned, his hands shaking as he ran them through his hair.
"Jesus... thank God... oh, Christ, Cadi..." He looked up at her then, his eyes bright with emotion, with something raw and almost hopeful.
But Cadi wasn't smiling.
She wasn't relieved.
She was watching him, arms still crossed, her expression so cold, her eyes like ice.
And then—it hit him.
What he had done.
What he had put Tomos through.
What he had put Cadi through.
All the nights, Tomos had waited, confused why his Da wouldn't come tuck him in.
All the nights Cadi had cried without making a sound.
His stomach twisted violently. He was going to be violently ill.
The relief curdled into something dark, something sick.
He had gotten what he wanted—the truth.
But it didn't feel like a victory.
It felt like a death sentence.
Gray lowered the phone slowly, his hands trembling, and for the first time since this whole nightmare had begun—
He looked utterly, irreversibly broken.