CHAPTER 3: DNA and the Devil

Alina’s POV 

“We need the father. It’s urgent.”

My fingers grip the cold wall and my knees feel weak, like they might break.

“I… I don’t know him,” I say again. My voice is soft. Shaky.

The nurse raised her eyebrows. “You don’t know the father of your child?”

I nodded slowly and shame burnt in my cheeks. “I met him once. Only once. Five years ago.”

She sighed and gave me a tight smile. “Try to remember more, okay? He might be your son’s only hope.”

She walked away and I still stood there, I was alone now, and I slid down to the floor and covered my face with both hands.

Leo  was so sick now, my baby was sick.

And I couldn't even tell the doctor his father’s name.

___

I sat in the corner of the hospital waiting room, and I held on to my old bag on my lap. I opened the front pocket, my hands were shaking.

I dug deep, and there it was.

The gold bracelet.

I take it out slowly. It shines under the white lights. Clean. Smooth. Heavy.

The letters are still there.

S. Blackwell.

That's all I have.

Just a name.

Not even a full name.

I kept looking at it for a long time and I didn't know what to do, but I wanted to cry but I was too tired to even cry.

When I got back inside, I moved to Leo’s bed and I kissed his forehead. 

He was sleeping now. His little hand held my finger and his face was pale. There was sweat on his neck.

“I will fix this,” I whispered. “I promise.”

__

The next morning, I went to a small pawn shop.

“I want to sell this,” I said, showing my mother’s ring. The one she gave me before she died.

The man gave me cash. Not much. But enough to take a bus to the city.

Then I sold my necklace. My old phone and even my shoes. I wore Lila’s worn-out flats instead.

I counted the money. It was still not enough.

But I didn’t stop.

I got to a building that said PRIVATE INVESTIGATOR in big, ugly letters.

 The man inside was bald and smelled of coffee and old socks.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked, holding the bracelet with two fingers. “This man sounds important.”

“I don’t care,” I said. “Just find him. His name is Blackwell. That’s all I know.”

The man leaned back. “Blackwell… that’s a name you don’t forget. Sounds like money.”

I nodded. “He is rich. I don’t want his money. I just need to find him.”

His eyes kept staring at me for a long time, then he eventually wrote something in a notebook.

“I will call you if I find anything.”

__

One week later…

My phone rang.

It was the PI and he sounded very excited.

“His name is Sebastian Blackwell,” he said,  “CEO of Blackwell Holdings. He is worth billions. He has never married. He has no public girlfriends and he keeps to himself.  He is very private.”

I grabbed a pen and wrote everything down.

“He is going to be at a gala tomorrow night,” the PI said. “Downtown. Big hotel. Fancy people.”

I pressed the phone to my chest after we hung up.

Sebastian Blackwell. That was him. That was Leo’s father.

__

The next night

I borrowed a catering uniform from a friend at the cafe. It was a little too big for me, however I put it on like that. 

The hotel was huge and it was all glass and bright lit everywhere.

I walked past the guards with the other waitresses. No one checked us and no one noticed me.

The ballroom was golden and had big chandeliers, and there were red carpets. There was laughter and people wore shiny things I couldn’t even name.

I kept walking and my hands were sweaty, but my heart wouldn't slow down.

Then I saw him near the stage, I couldn't believe that I still remembered his face from 5 years ago, his eyes were still solid and he wore a black suit, he looked like he owned the world.

That was him.

That was the man from the hotel five years ago.

Sebastian Blackwell.

My heart jumped and I took one long deep breath and walked closer and my legs were weak, but I kept going.

He finished talking and turned around and he was alone now.

And then I stepped right in front of him.

“We met five years ago,” I said quickly, before I lost the words.

He blinked. “Excuse me?”

“In a hotel,” I said. “Suite 707.”

His face didn’t change and he just looked at me like I was a bug on his shoe.

I held my breath. “I think… I think you’ my son’s father.”

He stares.

Long and hard.

Then he looked around like he was checking if anyone was watching.

He whispers, “Security—”

“No!” I say fast. “Please. Just listen to me. I don’t want your money. I’m not here to make a scene.”

He frowned. “You are a gold-digger.”

“I’m not.”

“You have no proof.”

I pulled something from my pocket. A photo. It’s old, creased at the edges.

It was Leo.

He was smiling, sitting on our small bed, and holding his teddy bear. His black hair was messy and his eyes were sharp and cold.

Just like Sebastian’s.

I place the photo on the table beside us.

He looks down.

And stops breathing.

He stared at the picture for a long time and his jaw tightened.

His fingers twitched, then his eyes met mine.

It was cold and deadly.

“Let’s get a DNA test,” he says in a low voice.

He turned and walked away, but before he disappeared into the crowd, he looked back once.

And his face was unreadable.

Like the devil just found his weakness.