Chapter 6 The Test Results

• AVA
• The clinic smelled like antiseptic and broken dreams. I sat in the uncomfortable plastic chair, bouncing Eli on my knee while we waited for the results I already knew would destroy my life. His little fingers played with the buttons on my shirt, completely unaware that his world was about to change forever.
• "Ms. Parker?" The nurse called my name, her voice professionally neutral. "Dr. Martinez will see you now."
• My legs felt like jelly as I stood up, clutching Eli against my chest. The hallway seemed to stretch on forever, each step bringing me closer to losing everything that mattered.
• Dr. Martinez was a kind-looking woman in her fifties with gentle eyes that had probably delivered countless pieces of life-changing news. She gestured for me to sit across from her desk.
• "The results are conclusive," she said, sliding a folder across to me. "Mr. Blackwood is indeed the biological father of your son."
• Even though I'd known this moment was coming, hearing the words out loud felt like a punch to the gut. I stared at the papers through blurry eyes, the scientific proof that Eli belonged to a man who saw him as property to be claimed.
• "What happens now?" I whispered.
• "That's between you and the legal teams," she said softly. "But I want you to know, whatever happens, Eli is lucky to have a mother who loves him so much."
• I walked out of that clinic feeling like I was in a nightmare. Eli babbled happily in his stroller, pointing at birds and cars, completely innocent of the storm that was about to hit our lives.
• My phone rang before I even made it to the bus stop.
• "Ms. Parker, this is James Morrison, attorney for Mr. Blackwood. We need to meet immediately to discuss the custody arrangements."
• "I haven't even had time to process the results," I said, my voice shaking.
• "Time is a luxury you can't afford. My office, one hour. The address is 1247 Fifth Avenue, forty-second floor."
• The line went dead. I stared at my phone, feeling the walls of my world closing in around me.
• The law office was everything I'd expected and worse. Floor-to-ceiling windows, expensive artwork, and furniture that probably cost more than I'd make in five years. I felt like a stray cat who'd wandered into a palace.
• James Morrison was a thin man with cold eyes and an expensive suit. He didn't offer me coffee or small talk. He simply slid a thick document across his polished desk.
• "This is a custody agreement," he said without preamble. "Mr. Blackwood is willing to be generous, considering the circumstances."
• I picked up the papers with trembling hands and started reading. Each word made my heart sink deeper.
• "Primary physical custody to Liam Blackwood," I read aloud. "Supervised visitation for Ava Parker, two hours per week, at a location to be determined by Mr. Blackwood."
• "Two hours?" My voice cracked. "Two hours a week with my own son?"
• "Mr. Blackwood is being quite reasonable. You hid his child from him for two years. Many fathers would seek to terminate your parental rights entirely."
• "I didn't hide him! I didn't know who Liam was!"
• Morrison's expression didn't change. "That's what you claim. However, Mr. Blackwood has reason to believe you knew exactly who he was and chose to keep his son from him deliberately."
• "That's not true!"
• "The agreement also includes a modest monthly stipend for your living expenses, provided you comply with all visitation terms and don't attempt to interfere with Eli's upbringing."
• I kept reading, each clause more devastating than the last. Liam would have complete control over where Eli lived, what schools he attended, what medical care he received. I would have no say in any decisions about my own child's life.
• "I won't sign this," I said, pushing the papers back across the desk.
• Morrison raised an eyebrow. "I don't think you understand your position, Ms. Parker. Mr. Blackwood has unlimited resources. You work at a diner and live in a one-bedroom apartment that, frankly, barely meets basic safety standards."
• "I love my son. That has to count for something."
• "Love doesn't pay for private schools or healthcare. Love doesn't provide security or opportunities." His voice was ice cold. "Mr. Blackwood can give Eli everything you never could."
• "Money isn't everything."
• "Isn't it?" He pulled out another folder. "Your employment history shows you've been fired from three jobs in the past year. Your credit score is abysmal. You have no savings, no family support, no education beyond high school."
• Each fact he listed felt like a slap. "I'm a good mother."
• "Are you? You've exposed that child to an unstable living situation, inconsistent childcare, and financial stress that no child should endure. Some might argue that keeping him in such conditions borders on neglect."
• "How dare you!" I stood up so fast my chair nearly fell over. "I've given him everything I have!"
• "And what you have isn't nearly enough." Morrison's smile was cruel. "Sign the agreement, Ms. Parker. It's the best offer you're going to get."
• "No." The word came out stronger than I felt. "I won't sign away my rights to my child."
• "Then you're making a very foolish decision." He pressed a button on his desk. "Please escort Ms. Parker out."
• Security guards appeared as if they had been waiting outside the door. I clutched my purse and walked out with as much dignity as I could muster, but inside I was crumbling.
• The bus ride home felt endless. Eli had fallen asleep in his stroller, his little face peaceful and trusting. How could I protect him from a man who had the power to buy judges and twist laws to his advantage?
• Back in our tiny apartment, I paced the floor while Eli played with his blocks. My phone rang constantly, but I didn't answer. I knew it was either Morrison or Liam, both calling to pressure me into surrender.
• Finally, around dinnertime, I answered.
• "You're making this harder than it needs to be," Liam's voice was cold and controlled.
• "He's my son too," I said, trying to keep my voice steady.
• "A son you kept from me for two years. A son you're raising in poverty when he could have everything."
• "He has love. He has security with me."
• "He has instability and wants. I can give him a future, Ava. Private schools, college, opportunities you could never dream of providing."
• "At what cost? Never seeing his mother?"
• "You'll see him. Under supervision, to ensure his safety and wellbeing."
• "Safety from what? From me?"
• "From a mother who's already proven she's willing to lie and hide to get what she wants."
• The accusation hit like a physical blow. "I never lied. I never knew who you were."
• "So you claim." His voice got quieter, more dangerous. "Here's what's going to happen, Ava. You're going to sign that agreement, or I'm going to use every resource at my disposal to prove you're an unfit mother. I'll have investigators crawl through every day of your life. I'll have child services examine every corner of that pathetic apartment you call home."
• "You can't just take him from me."
• "Can't I?" His laugh was bitter. "I'm a billionaire, Ava. I own half this city. If I want something done, it gets done."
• "The courts won't just give you custody because you're rich."
• "Won't they? When they see the differences in what we can provide? When they hear about your history of job instability, your mother's alcoholism, your complete lack of family support?" He paused, letting his words sink in. "I'm giving you a chance to be part of his life. Don't throw it away because of pride."
• "It's not pride. It's love."
• "Then prove you love him. Do what's best for him, not what makes you feel better."
• The line went dead. I sank onto my couch, staring at my beautiful boy as he stacked blocks and knocked them down, giggling each time they fell.
• Maybe Liam was right. Maybe Eli would be better off with a father who could give him everything I couldn't. But the thought of seeing him only two hours a week, of watching him grow up from the sidelines, made me want to die.
• I was still sitting there, paralyzed by impossible choices, when someone knocked on my door at eight o'clock that evening.
• I looked through the peephole and felt my blood turn to ice.
• Two people in professional suits stood in my hallway, official badges glinting in the dim light. Behind them was a police officer.
• "M
• s. Parker?" The woman called through the door. "We're from Child Protective Services. We need to speak with you about Eli Parker.”