CHAPTER 6:48 HOURS DNA DEADLINE-FIRST HEART BEAT 110

48 hours.

Nandy Jordan said 48 hours. DNA kit. Prove East London girl is carrying Cranston blood. Or she leaks pink test to Billionaire Wives group and says I trapped CEO on desk for promotion.

I walked out of 14th floor boardroom holding Luke's hand in red dress, 6 weeks pregnant.

John Sterling followed us. 33, CEO Sterling Holdings, best friend of Luke since boarding school, warm grey eyes. He looked at my eyes, not my dress.

"Miss Long," John said, calm. "You need private OB. Not Nandy's Girls Clinic. Dr. Patel, Sea Point, confidential. I will pay. As friend of Luke."

Luke nodded. "Take her now. Board will vote again after Mom's tantrum. You go with John. I trust John more than my driver."

John's Maybach. Inside smelled like law books, not whisky. He drove himself.

"Miss Long, I am not going to ask if it is Luke's," John said, driving down Lion's Head. "I know Luke. He told me six weeks ago he slept with virgin on his desk on 14th floor and felt guilty because she bled and he never got her number. He said she wore red Zara, R499, ripped. He kept ripped piece in drawer."

He kept piece?

"My throat closed. "He kept my dress?"

"He kept it because he felt guilty. Luke does not feel guilty for women. He feels guilty for you because you were virgin."

Dr. Patel clinic. Sea Point. Small, private, no pink shorts.

Dr. Patel — 50, kind eyes.

"Miss Long, how far?"

"6 weeks. Home test two pink lines. Blood HCG 10452 taken without consent by Nandy Jordan Clinic. I need real blood. And scan."

Dr. Patel frowned.

"6 weeks too early for amniotic DNA. Dangerous. We can do blood paternity 99% from your blood + father's cheek swab after 7 weeks. Safer. For now, scan, heartbeat, real HCG. And I will write affidavit that Nandy's blood was taken without informed consent."

She put gel on my flat stomach. Cold.

Screen black. Then flicker. Flicker-flicker-flicker.

Fast. Like hummingbird.

"There," Dr. Patel whispered. "Heartbeat. 6 weeks 3 days. One baby. Healthy."

I saw. Small dot. Flickering fast. My baby. Not Cranston property. My baby.

I cried. In red dress, on small bed.

"Heartbeat okay?"

"Perfect," Dr. Patel said. "110 bpm. You are perfect mother. HCG matches 6 weeks. You need protein. Salmon?"

I laughed crying. Salmon.

Dr. Patel printed photo. Black white, small dot.

"For father?"

"Yes," I whispered.

Outside, John waited with water bottle. He handed me water, not looking at scan.

"Heartbeat?"

"Yes. 6 weeks 3 days. One."

He nodded. "Luke will cry. He never cries."

Cliff House. Glass house opposite Nandy's mansion.

Luke was on phone on infinity pool edge, shouting at Nandy.

"Mom, you will not take her blood again. You will not leak —"

He saw me in red dress holding scan photo and stopped.

He walked to me, took scan photo from my hands like it was 50M trust.

He stared at flicker dot.

"Heartbeat?"

"110. One baby. 6 weeks 3 days."

Luke Bryan Cranston, 32, CEO, cold grey eyes, who never cries, cried.

One tear. Down cheek. Into scan photo.

"My child," he whispered. "Not heir. My child."

He knelt on infinity pool edge, in black suit, put head on my flat stomach over red dress.

"Linda Long," he said to my stomach. "I took your virginity on glass desk and felt guilty for six weeks because you bled and I kept ripped piece of your Zara dress. I hired you next morning and called you Miss Long because I did not want board to know I wanted you. I wanted you, not image."

He looked up.

"I love you. Not heir. You. Linda Long from East London who irons at 5 AM and wears red when scared."

I stood in red dress R25k he bought when guilty, 6 weeks 3 days pregnant, scan photo in hand, Nandy's mansion opposite where painting does not include me.

And Luke Bryan Cranston, billionaire brother of my ex-fiancé, said I love you to my flat stomach.

My phone buzzed. Photo.

Nandy had added baby to painting. Oil. Small red dot in my arms, but my face blurred. Caption: _CRANSTON HEIR — MOTHER UNKNOWN — EAST LONDON GIRL REMOVED._

Text:

_N. JORDAN: 24 HOURS LEFT. DNA OR I LEAK. I PAINTED BABY WITHOUT YOU. BECAUSE BLOODLINE IS MINE, NOT YOURS. — NANDY_

Luke read over shoulder. Jaw stone.

He took my phone, threw it into infinity pool.

"She will not take you. Tomorrow we go to 14th floor and we tell board Long is mother of heir and heir is Long-Cranston, not property."

He picked me up in red dress, scan photo in my hand, and carried me into Cliff House bedroom.

He laid me on bed, hand on stomach, head on stomach, listening for heartbeat 110 that only machine can hear but he pretended he heard.

"Sleep, Miss Long," he whispered. "Tomorrow DNA blood, safe. John brings cheek swab. And I tell board I love you."