**He Is Not My Child**
Hes not my son, the millionaire stated coldly, his voice echoing through the marble hall. Pack your things and leave. Both of you. He pointed to the door. His wife clutched the baby to her chest, her eyes brimming with tears. If only he knew
The storm outside mirrored the turmoil inside the house. Leonie stood motionless, her knuckles white as she held little Thomas. Her husband, Denis Melton, a billionaire tycoon and head of the Melton family, glared at her with a fury shed never seen in their ten years of marriage.
Denis, please, Leonie whispered, her voice trembling. You dont understand what youre saying.
I understand perfectly, he shot back. That boy isnt mine. I took a DNA test last week. The results were clear.
The accusation hurt more than any physical blow. Leonies knees nearly buckled.
You took a test without telling me?
I had to. He doesnt look like me, doesnt act like me. And I couldnt ignore the rumours.
Rumours? Denis, hes a baby! And hes your son! I swear on everything holy.
But Denis had already made up his mind.
Your things will be sent to your fathers house. Dont come back here. Ever.
Leonie hesitated for a moment, praying this was just another one of his impulsive rages, the kind that faded by morning. But the ice in his voice left no room for doubt. She turned and walked away, her heels clicking against the marble as thunder roared over the manor.
Leonie had grown up modestly but entered a world of privilege when she married Denis. 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. Shed been faithful. Shed loved Denis, stood by him when the markets crashed, when the press tore him apart, even when his mother scorned her. Now, hed cast her out like a stranger.
Her father, Thomas Albuquerque, opened the door, eyes wide.
Leonie? Whats happened?
She collapsed into his arms. He said Thomas isnt his He threw us out.
Thomas clenched his jaw. Come inside, love.
In the days that followed, Leonie adjusted to her new life. The house was small, her old bedroom nearly unchanged. The baby, oblivious, babbled and played, giving her moments of comfort.
But one thing haunted her: the DNA test. How could it be wrong?
Desperate for answers, she went to the lab where Denis had the test done. She had contactsand favours to call in. What she discovered chilled her to the bone.
The test had been tampered with.
Meanwhile, Denis sat alone in the manor, tormented by silence. He told himself hed done the right thinghe couldnt raise another mans child. But guilt gnawed at him. He avoided Thomass nursery until curiosity got the better of him. Seeing the empty crib, the stuffed giraffe, the tiny shoes in the cupboard, something inside him broke.
His mother, Lady Beatrice, offered no comfort.
I warned you, Denis, she said, sipping her tea. That Albuquerque girl was never worthy of you.
Even she was taken aback when Denis didnt respond.
Days passed. A week.
Then a letter arrived.
No return address. Just a sheet of paper and a photograph.
Deniss hands shook as he read.
*Denis,
You were wrong. Completely.
You wanted proofhere it is. I found the original results. The test was altered. And this photo, found in your mothers office You know exactly what it means.
Leonie*
The truth hit like a tombstone. Hed seen the photo beforehis mother and the familys wealth manager, caught in a revealing embrace. The reason for the tampering was clear. The inheritance, threatened by the rightful heir. His pride, his rage, had been weapons to tear his son away. The letter from the only woman who truly loved him revealed the cost of distrust and silence.
The greatest wealth, he learned too late, isnt measured in bank accounts, but in those who accept us whollyin the truths we choose to share. The echo of Leonies words was the loudest noise in the empty manor nowa cry that would haunt him, a reminder of the family hed destroyed out of pride.
Some doubts, when left unanswered, become storms that destroy everything.
