Third Person POV
Viv blinked at her husband, her features stiff with disbelief. “Nathaniel,” she said sharply. “You can’t be serious.”
“I’ve never been more serious,” he replied, calm but cold. “Something doesn’t add up.”
Michael looked between them, jaw tense. “Dad, that’s—look, I know things are messy, but this theory? It’s too far-fetched.”
“Is it?” Nathaniel turned to him. “The girl has the exact same blood type as Genevieve. That could be a coincidence. But the allergy?” He looked at his wife, locking eyes. “Viv, it’s genetic.”
Viv flinched. “That doesn’t prove anything. There are hundreds—thousands—of people who could share those traits.”
“And yet,” Nathaniel continued, pulling something discreetly from his inner coat pocket, “here we are.”
Viv’s breath caught as she stared at what he held—several loose strands of hair, carefully wrapped in a tissue. “What is that?”
“She had a brush on her bedside table. When she closed her eyes, I just had to take some samples. I wasn’t going t
