**Hes Not My Son**
Hes not my child, the millionaire stated coldly, his voice echoing through the marble foyer. Pack your things and leave. Both of you. He pointed to the door. His wife clutched the baby tightly to her chest, eyes brimming with tears. If only he knew
The storm outside matched the one raging inside the house. Eleanor stood frozen, her knuckles white as she held little Thomas. Her husband, Edward Whitmore, billionaire tycoon and head of the Whitmore family, glared at her with a fury she had never seen in their ten years of marriage.
Edward, please, Eleanor whispered, her voice trembling. You dont understand what youre saying.
I understand perfectly, he snapped. That boy isnt mine. I took a DNA test last week. The results are clear.
The accusation hurt more than a physical blow. Eleanors knees nearly gave way.
You did the test without telling me?
I had to. He doesnt look like me. Doesnt act like me. And I couldnt keep ignoring the rumours.
Rumours? Edward, hes a baby! And he *is* your son! I swear on everything I hold dear.
But Edward had already made up his mind.
Your things will be sent to your fathers house. Dont come back here. Ever.
For a moment, Eleanor hesitated, hoping this was just another one of his impulsive ragesthe kind that always faded by morning. But the ice in his voice left no room for doubt. She turned and walked out, her heels clicking against the marble as thunder shook the mansion.
Eleanor had grown up in modest means but entered a world of privilege when she married Edward. Elegant, discreet, intelligenteverything the magazines celebrated and high society envied. None of it mattered now.
As the limousine carried her and Thomas back to her fathers cottage in the Cotswolds, her mind raced. She had been faithful. She had loved Edward, stood by him when the markets crashed, when the press tore him apart, even when his mother despised her. And now, he cast her out like a stranger.
Her father, Albert Hartley, opened the door, eyes wide at the sight of her.
Eleanor? Whats happened?
She collapsed into his arms. He said Thomas isnt his He threw us out.
Alberts jaw clenched. Come inside, love.
In the days that followed, Eleanor adjusted to her new life. The cottage was small, her old bedroom almost unchanged. The baby, oblivious, babbled and played, giving her moments of comfort.
But one thing troubled her: the DNA test. How could it be wrong?
Desperate for answers, she went to the lab where Edward had taken the test. She had contactsand favours to call in. What she discovered chilled her to the bone.
The test had been tampered with.
Meanwhile, Edward stood alone in the mansion, haunted by the silence. He told himself he had done the right thinghe couldnt raise another mans son. But guilt gnawed at him. He avoided Thomass nursery, until curiosity finally drove him inside. Seeing the empty crib, the stuffed giraffe, the tiny footprints on the wardrobe, something inside him shattered.
His mother, Lady Cecilia, didnt help.
I warned you, Edward, she said, sipping her tea. That Hartley girl was never worthy of you.
Even she paused when Edward didnt reply.
Days passed. A week.
Then a letter arrived.
No return address. A single sheet and a photograph.
Edwards hands shook as he read.
*Edward,*
*You were wrong. Utterly wrong.*
*You wanted proofhere it is. I found the original results. The test was falsified. And this photo, discovered in your mothers office You know what it means.*
*Eleanor*
The truth hit him like a tombstone. He had seen the photograph beforehis mother and the familys financial advisor, caught in a revealing embrace. The motive for the deception was clear. The inheritance threatened by a legitimate heir. His pride, his rageall had been weaponised to tear his son away. Eleanors letter, from the one woman who had truly loved him, laid bare the cost of distrust and silence.
The greatest wealth, he learned too late, isnt measured in bank balances but in those who accept us wholly, in the truths we choose to share. The echo of Eleanors words was the loudest sound in the empty mansiona haunting reminder of the family he had destroyed through blind pride. Some doubts, left unchecked, become storms that sweep everything away.
