When he finished, he lowered the reports carefully and stared at me.
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"My God."
That was all he said.
Two words carrying the weight of nearly two decades.
A week later, a third test from a completely different laboratory confirmed the first two.
There was no longer any room for doubt.
Only questions neither Daniel nor I could answer.
Eventually, there was only one thing left to do.
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I called Olivia.
The moment she answered, I knew something was wrong.
Her voice sounded tense, almost frightened.
"Can we talk?" I asked.
There was a pause.
"About what?"
"Face to face."
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Another pause.
Then she quietly agreed.
I drove to her house that evening with the DNA reports sitting in the passenger seat beside me. During the entire drive, I rehearsed what I wanted to say.
None of it sounded sane.
By the time I arrived, my hands were shaking.
