Chapter 2

Rare? It wasn't just the blood type.

Looking at Leo’s face today had shaken me to my core.

That was the real reason panic was clawing at my chest.

Lily and I were set up on a blind date by our families.

At first, I really liked her.

Once both sides agreed, my mom didn't hesitate to pay for all the expensive wedding arrangements.

The wedding was scheduled for two weeks later—a total whirlwind rush.

It wasn't until days before the ceremony that Lily confessed she was already three months pregnant.

I was ambushed into being a stand-in dad.

In the days leading up to the wedding, I drank myself into a stupor every night, torn and agonized.

In the end, I chose to swallow the humiliation and go through with it.

My mom had just been diagnosed with cervical cancer. I couldn't risk shocking her and worsening her condition.

After the wedding, I treated Lily like ice.

Once the boy was born, I barely lifted a finger for him.

The child was a living insult to my pride as a man.

I despised him. I hated hearing him call me "Daddy."

He was three now, already in preschool.

Yet in three years, I had never taken him to a playground.

I had never played a single game with him.

Sometimes, when I was drinking at home and he tried to hug my leg, I would bark at him to get the hell away from me.

So he grew up distant, terrified of me.

I never felt a shred of guilt.

He wasn't mine. I owed him nothing.

I even thought of myself as generous.

He was a permanent stain on my dignity. Giving him a roof over his head without abusing him was already charity...

Yet everything that happened today shattered my peace of mind.

A cold dread gripped me.

If Leo wasn't my son, why did he share my rare blood type? Why did he look so damn much like me?

Three days flew by.

Leo was discharged. It was just a minor cut that required three stitches.

Over those three days, I didn't ask about his condition once.

Lily didn't say a word either.

After three years, this was our normal routine.

In our home, mother and son lived their lives, and I lived mine.

We were like strangers sharing an apartment.

The second I clocked off work, I rushed to the hospital to pick up the test results.

I brought Cole along.

Among my coworkers, Cole drove with me on field calls all the time, so we were the closest.

He already knew about the paternity test anyway.

The truth was, I brought him because my nerves were completely shot.

I didn't open the envelope right away.

Cole and I sat down at a quiet bar, ordered some food, and only then did I tear open the seal.

Cole leaned in, dying of curiosity.

The moment the paper unfolded before our eyes,

Cole broke into a wide grin.

I, on the other hand, went dead white. A chill crept straight up my spine...

The result was crystal clear!

Probability of paternity: 99.99%!

Biologically, undeniably, he was my son.

Yet this was the one outcome that made zero sense—the one truth I couldn't accept.

My brain exploded with a roar.

I sat there, paralyzed, mumbling like a madman, "No... this is impossible. Where... where did it go wrong?"