Chapter 4 - The Reynolds Family Demands An Immediate DNA Test
Naomi pulled the paper sheet up to her chin, clutching it like a shield as she backed herself against the examination table pillow.
“No!” Naomi gasped out, her voice high-pitched and hysterical.
“I am not doing any tests today! The stress... the stress will harm the baby!”
“I am leaving!”
She tried to swing her legs over the edge of the examination table, but Samantha blocked her path, her arms crossed tight over her chest.
“You’re not going anywhere, Naomi,” Samantha said, her voice dropping into a deadly whisper.
“My family just spent three months throwing you parties, buying you designer gifts, and treating you like a queen.”
“My brother just divorced his wife of twelve years and gave up his daughters for this child.”
“You are going to take that DNA test right now, or I swear to God I will call base security and have you escorted off this property.”
Victor finally moved, taking a slow step toward the woman he had destroyed his marriage for.
His hand was trembling, his face gray, his eyes hollow with a mixture of rage, confusion, and profound humiliation.
“Naomi...” Victor whispered, his voice dangerously quiet. “Take the test.”
“Victor, honey, please—”
“TAKE THE TEST!” Victor roared, his voice bouncing off the hard walls of the examination room so loudly that nurses in the hallway jumped.
Miriam covered her face with her hands, letting out a loud, pathetic sob as she leaned against her husband’s shoulder.
The golden future they had envisioned—the proud Reynolds boy carrying on the family empire—was crumbling into ashes around them.
Dr. Harrison casually stepped to the intercom on the wall and pressed the button.
“Nurse Adams, please bring a prenatal paternity collection kit to Room 4 immediately,” Dr. Harrison instructed calmly.
Ten minutes later, Naomi sat frozen while the nurse drew three vials of blood from her left arm.
Victor stood in the corner, allowing the nurse to scrape the inside of his cheek with a cotton swab without saying a word.
He didn't look at Naomi once during the entire procedure.
When the nurse sealed the envelopes in front of them, Dr. Harrison marked them with priority red tags.
“The lab will expedite the genetic sequencing,” Dr. Harrison noted, placing the kit into the biohazard transport bag.
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“You will have your answer by Thursday morning at nine o'clock.”
“Have a good day.”
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