Not my child, the millionaire announced coldly, his voice echoing through the marble hallway. Take your things and leave. Both of you. He gestured toward the door. His wife clutched the infant, tears filling her eyes. If only he had known
The storm outside matched the turmoil inside. Eleonora stood frozen, her fingers white from gripping little Liviu against her chest. Her husband, Grigore Bădărău, a multimilliondollar magnate and head of the Bădărău family, stared at her with a fury she hadnt seen in ten years of marriage.
Grigore, please Eleonora whispered, her voice trembling. You dont understand what youre saying.
I understand perfectly, he snapped. That boy isnt mine. I had the DNA test done last week. The results are clear.
The accusation struck harder than a slap. Eleonoras knees buckled.
You did the test without telling me?
It was necessary. He doesnt look like me. He doesnt behave like me. I couldnt ignore the rumors any longer.
Rumors? Grigore, hes a baby! Hes yours! I swear on everything I have!
Grigore had already decided.
Your belongings will be sent to your fathers house. Do not come back here. Never.
Eleonora lingered a moment, hoping it was just another impulsive decision that would pass. His cold tone left no doubt. He turned and left, the clatter of his shoes on the marble echoing as thunder roared above the manor.
Eleonora had grown up in a modest home, but she entered the world of the privileged when she married Grigore. She was elegant, composed, and intelligentexactly the qualities praised by magazines and envied by society. Now, none of that mattered.
As the Dacia drove Eleonora and Liviu back to her fathers rural house in Vărzărești, her mind whirled. She had been faithful. She had loved Grigore, stood by him when the markets collapsed, when the press attacked him, even when her own mother rejected her. And now she was being cast out like a stranger.
Her father, Marin Crângu, opened the door, eyes wide with astonishment.
Eli? What happened?
She fell into his arms. He said Liviu isnt his He threw us out.
Marins jaw tightened. Come in, child.
In the days that followed, Eleonora adjusted to her new reality. The house was small; her former bedroom had changed only slightly. Liviu, oblivious, played and babbled, offering brief moments of peace amid the pain.
But the DNA test nagged at her. How could it be wrong?
Desperate for answers, she went to the laboratory where Grigore had ordered the test. She had some contactsand a few favors to call in. What she discovered froze her blood.
The test had been fabricated.
Meanwhile, Grigore sat alone in his Bucharest mansion, tormented by silence. He told himself he had done what was necessaryhe could not raise another mans child. Yet his conscience gnawed at him. He avoided the old nursery, but one day curiosity overwhelmed him. Seeing the empty crib, the plush giraffe, the tiny shoes stacked on a shelf, something inside him cracked.
Even his mother, Mrs. Agatha, offered no help.
We warned you, Grigore, she said, sipping her expensive tea. That Crângu was never yours.
She was stunned when he remained silent.
Days passed, then a week, then a letter arrivedno return address, just a sheet of paper and a photograph.
Grigores hands shook as he read it.
Grigore, you were wrong. Terribly. You wanted proofhere it is. I found the original results. The test was arranged to say what it says. And the photo that will ruin youI found it in your mothers office You know what it means. Eleonora.
He collapsed into a chair, the paper slipping through his fingers. The photograph landed faceup on the polished floor: Mrs. Agatha, smugly plucking a few strands of hair from the babys pillow, her cold smile triumphant. Everything exploded in his mind. Proofhis mother had stolen the samples, destroying everything.
He sprang to his feet, fury raging. How dare she? What monster had she become?
Suddenly the truth hit himthe picture showed his father with the same blue eyes as Oliver, confirming that Aunt Agatha had falsified the DNA test in a mad attempt to ruin the marriage. The paper crumpled in his trembling hand. Standing alone in the cold hallway, his wealth in lei no longer mattered; only the heavy tears falling on the letter and his desperate longing to run back to Eleonora and the child he feared losing remained.
