22. Cillian
CILLIAN
Getting Claire to agree is almost too easy. That’s the part that makes my stomach turn.
I call her from the car, Valentina sitting across from me watching my face while I do it. I have to keep my voice even, even a little warm. I’ve been doing a lot of things lately that require me to be something I’m not, and I’m getting very tired of it.
“Claire,” I say when she picks up, my hand curling into a fist. “I’ve been thinking about Finn. About the trust fund. I’ve made some decisions and I’d like to go over the details with you in person.”
There’s a long pause and I wonder if Claire has realized I’m trying to trap her. But then her relieved voice comes through the phone like a woman who has been waiting for exactly this.
“That’s wonderful, Cillian.” She sounds almost breathless and grateful, like I’ve just offered her something she’d been hoping for but was too decent to ask for directly. “Thank you so much for doing this for Finn.”
I want to put my fist through the window.
For Finn. Like she gives a damn about Finn.
Like any of this has ever been about Finn and not about what she can extract from me. I keep my breathing steady.
I can feel Valentina’s gaze on me and I can feel her touch my forearm, providing me some steadying comfort.
“Of course,” I say smoothly into the phone. “How’s Thursday?”
“Thursday is perfect.”
We settle on a coffee shop in Midtown. Her suggestion, actually, which almost makes me laugh.
Of course she wants a coffee shop. It’s somewhere she clearly feels safe, where she can play the reasonable co-parent, the gracious wronged woman, the mother just trying to do right by her son.
Fine. Let her feel safe.
When I hang up Valentina is quiet for a second. “She didn’t hesitate,” she murmurs, her hand still on me.
“No,” I say swallowing heavily. “She didn’t.”
Because why would she? She’s been running this play for weeks and it’s been working. I’ve been guilty and off-balance and second-guessing myself at every turn, exactly the way she needed me to be. Of course she didn’t hesitate. I was calling to give her more money.
The coffee shop smells like burnt milk and someone’s too-sweet pastry when we get there on Thursday.
We’ve been sitting here for twenty minutes already and I’m getting impatient, glancing at my watch to check the time. The folder is on the table in front of me. Valentina hasn’t touched her coffee. Neither have I.
We’re waiting for Claire.
She walks in eight minutes late and I see the moment she spots Valentina.
She sees her, and something ugly flickers across her face—surprise curdling into irritation—then it’s gone, buried under a smooth, polite act.
Then I see Finn behind her and my stomach drops.
He’s bouncing a little on his heels the way kids do when they have boundless energy.
When he spots me across the room his whole face lights up. He waves wildly, practically launching himself onto his toes.
“Hi Dad!”
Something sharp lances straight through my chest.
Beside me I feel Valentina go very still.
Somehow, I manage to contort my lips into a smile, but it feels like a grimace. “Hey, buddy.”
I know he’s not mine. And I’m truly relieved, but part of me also feels…devastated.
Finn is a good kid and he doesn’t deserve this.
He has no idea his mother has been using him as a prop in a con, no idea that the man he just called Dad has been dreading this meeting for days. He just lit up because he saw me.
Kids shouldn’t be involved in adult matters.
And in the six weeks I’ve known Finn, I’ve grown to care for him. Plus, I know what it is to grow up without a father.
I know what that absence does to a person.
Finn’s real father is out there somewhere, probably not even knowing this kid exists, and Finn is going to grow up thinking—
I stop. Not now. I can’t do this right now.
Claire steps forward ahead of Finn, her smile apologetic. Except I look at her eyes while she’s smiling, and there’s nothing apologetic in them.
Her eyes dart to me, Valentina, then zero in on the folder on the table.
“I’m so sorry,” she says as she moves the chair back to place her bag on it, the chair legs screeching against the floor.
“I couldn’t find anyone to watch him on such short notice.
” She then turns her attention to my wife.
“Hi Valentina,” she says, her voice distinctly cooler. “I didn’t realize you’d be joining us.”
Valentina’s smile is razor sharp. “Of course I’m here,” Valentina says coldly. “This concerns our family. Our finances. Naturally, I’d be involved in any decisions about trust funds.”
Claire’s smile tightens. “Of course. That makes sense.”
There’s an awkward pause and even Finn feels it, glancing between us and his mother. Claire seems to notice that because she pastes on another fake smile.
“Would you mind if we just…” She gestures lightly toward the counter. “I’ll grab a coffee and get Finn a hot chocolate. We’ll be right back and then we can talk properly? Just a few minutes.”
“Of course,” I say, relieved she’s decided to do that. It gives me a moment to rein myself in because fuck me, I didn’t expect Finn to be here.
Claire smiles and takes Finn’s hand, steering him toward the counter. He goes cheerfully, already chattering at her about something, completely unbothered.
I turn to Valentina. She’s already looking at me, eyes wide. “I didn’t even think she would bring Finn,” she hisses.
“Shit,” I mutter, rubbing my temples with my thumb and index finger. I can feel a headache forming.
“What do we do?” Valentina asks, moving her trembling hands so they’re off the table. “Are we really going to upturn this poor kid’s life in front of him?”
“Yes,” I say firmly. I feel badly for Finn, I really do, but I’m not putting this off just because Claire threw me a curve ball.
Valentina gapes at me, dark eyes wide and her mouth falling open. “You’re going to—you’re going to tell this child that you’re not his father?”
“We hope that he brought something to do,” I respond, tapping my finger impatiently on the table as I watch Claire order.
Finn stands on his tip toes and smiles at the barista, who smiles back at him.
My heart clenches. Goddamn, I feel bad for this kid.
“Something that keeps him occupied and out of it. We’ll keep our voices down and hope to god he’s too absorbed in whatever game he has on him to hear any of it. ”
Valentina looks at the counter where Finn is now apparently trying to convince Claire to get him something else but Claire is shaking her head no.
Valentina’s jaw is tight. “He called you ‘Dad,’” she says, voice wavering a bit. “Fuck, I feel so bad.”
I take her hand in mine and squeeze. “I know,” I say gently. “I do too. But we have to do this.”
“No, you’re right. We do,” Valentina responds firmly. “But Cillian—”
“Not now,” I say quietly. “They’re coming back.”
Claire and Finn are already turning back toward us, hot chocolate and coffee in hand. She settles Finn into the chair beside her, and Finn immediately opens up his backpack and pulls out his tablet and his headphones. I nearly sag with relief and Valentina’s hand creeps onto my thigh and squeezes.
He immediately disappears into his game, feet brought up, using his knees as a table to support his tablet. There’s no way he’ll hear anything that’s going on.
Claire folds her hands on the table. “So,” she says pleasantly. “What did you want to discuss?”
I push the folder toward her. “I wanted to discuss these.”
When I open the folder, there are two pieces of paper in it, revealing both DNA test results.
The first one claiming 99.97% probability of paternity. The second one showing 0%.
Claire goes white. Her eyes flick between the pages like she’s not quite processing what she’s seeing. It’s then that her expression slips. It’s just for a second, but it’s open and unguarded. Shock, maybe. Or fear. Her mouth parts, her brow pulling together before she can smooth it back out.
“I don’t understand,” she says, but her voice is shaking now. “What is this?”
“This,” Valentina says, and her voice is pure ice, “is proof that you’re a liar.”
Claire’s eyes dart between us. Her face is still pale, and she’s still shaking, but I can see her mind racing, trying to figure out how to spin this. “T-there must be some mistake.” Her voice is unsteady. “The first test—”
“Was fraudulent.” I finish, making sure she’s looking at me so she can see the extent of my anger. She flinches. “You fucked up, Claire. The first test came in too quickly. So we got another test done.” I pause and jerk my chin toward the papers. “And guess what? I’m not Finn’s father.”
“How did you get additional DNA?” Claire demands, her lips bloodless as she scans the papers. “I was under the impression that the clinic destroys the DNA samples.”
I smile cruelly at her. “Maybe next time you should teach Finn to throw away his own juice boxes,” I say lightly as Claire sharply inhales. “Straws carry a wealth of DNA.”
Claire glares at me, trying to seize this for her moral high ground. “You stole my child’s DNA?”
“I stole nothing,” I say coldly. “It was garbage and I took it with me. It’s a good thing I did since you were trying to stick me with a child who isn’t even mine.”
“That’s impossible.”
“The science doesn’t lie, Claire.” Valentina’s voice interrupts hers, and I recognize her throwing my words back at the woman. “Isn’t that what was said? That DNA is definitive? Well, it is. And it says you’ve been running a con.”
The trembling stops. The pale, overwhelmed, cornered-woman expression just—melts away. Her eyes go sharp and still and her mouth settles into a line that has no softness in it. She looks…harder. More calculating and cold. The expression I’ve seen before but was quickly hidden.
There’s no hiding it now.
But how quickly it changes throws me.
I knew she was performing, but knowing it and seeing the performance end are two different things. For a moment, I feel the ground shift slightly under me.