4 (Eloise’s POV)

The antiseptic smell of hospitals always reminded me of endings. Not beginnings, not healing, not recovery—endings.

I had lost my best friend three years ago. He had been hit by a stray bullet in a drive by shooting and he had died the moment he was wheeled in through the doors of a hospital.

Just like this one.

The place I had grown up was a dangerous place. It had always been Mom and I in a closed off planet littered with hookers and gang members.

Mom was one side of that population. It was different men, different days. It was always that evil drug she never stopped taking.

I rubbed my arms together and blew out air from my mouth. Today was the day that I hoped my mother wasn’t a liar on top of all that.

Was Tristan my father? I had declared it but the truth was I don’t think I was really sure.

I kept my head down, walking down the long corridor toward a door I’d been told to report to, as if my entire life could be reduced to one folder, one page of data, one man’s reaction.

And maybe it could.

I gripped my phone so tightly in my hand that my knuckles blanched. Tristan’s text was still open on the screen, as though if I kept staring at it, the words might rearrange into something safer.

**3pm. Results will be ready. Come.**

Come.

That was it.

He didn’t even bother to ask how I was doing? I mean, it’s not like I could blame him but it didn’t make it hurt any less.

The text must have rattled me on some level because it made me hesitate at the motel this morning, pacing by the bathroom mirror until my reflection blurred into the face of my mother.

I wondered if he saw her too when he looked at me.

Did he hate it as much as I did?

“Don’t you ever come looking for me you hear me, Ellie!!! You stay the hell away. I’m dead to you”

Kaylie Perkins.

My mother.

Dead to me now.

My steps clicked against the white-tiled floor of the clinic, each one bringing me closer to an answer I wasn’t sure I wanted.

The receptionist glanced up as I approached.

“Hello, how may I help you?”

“I….I have an appointment,” I hesitated for a bit, “A DNA test result”

“Name?”

“Eloise Perkins,” I said, my voice firmer than I felt.

She checked a chart, nodded, and gestured toward the seating area down the hall.

“You’ll be called shortly. The others are already here.”

I didn’t have to ask who she meant. My stomach tightened. I was not in the mood to sit in the same room as Alex and Tristan.

Especially Alex.

I had crashed his engagement and announced in front of people who knew and loved that I was the illegitimate daughter of his soon to be husband.

Maybe I should just turn around and run. I didn’t even ask to be here. I have no idea why my mom was putting me in this situation.

Why did she make me do this? What did she do and why did I have to run from something I know nothing about and why the hell did I have to find him?

He didn’t even know if he wanted me to really be his kid. I don’t think he even wanted me around him.

As I rounded the corner, my breath stilled.

Tristan sat stiffly on one end of the row of chairs, his hands clasped between his knees, staring at the floor as though the tiles held answers he’d lost decades ago.

His suit was pressed, but his tie hung loose, an odd detail that screamed of unraveling control.

He offered me a small, brief wave and a tight smile as I sat a few chairs away.

No need to get too close.

Beside him, Alex leaned back in his chair, arms folded tight across his chest. His jaw was clenched so hard that a vein pulsed in his temple.

Unlike Tristan, he wasn’t pretending composure. His anxiety was raw, barely contained, and when his eyes flicked to me, it was like taking a punch.

I forced myself to look in their direction and with a lot of effort spoke.

“Hi,” I said, though it sounded pitiful even to me.

Neither of them answered.

Instead, Tristan slowly lifted his gaze, his blue eyes shadowed.

There was no welcome in them . Just acknowledgment.

Alex didn’t move at all, his silence heavier than any words he could have thrown at me.

Yup, he hated me.

Well, that could not have gone any worse.

So I sat three seats away from them, the space between us filled with unspoken questions and accusations. I plugged in my headphones, listening to a rapper called NF to distract my mind.

The clock ticked on the wall.

Every second scraped down my spine. It was torture.

I pulled my jacket tighter around me and stared at my hands. They shook slightly, so I pressed them together.

I wasn’t a religious person but in that moment I prayed to any God that would listen that my mom didn’t send me to find this stranger on lies.

I was too broke to get sued.

Finally, a nurse stepped out of the double doors, calling,

“Eloise Perkins? Tristan Walker? Alexander Mongroove?”

The three of us rose, a fractured trio bound by something none of us understood yet.

Inside the doctor’s office, everything was too clean, too bright. The blinds were half-closed, casting bars of sunlight across the desk where a thick envelope sat waiting.

That envelope might as well have been a grenade.

The doctor himself was a middle-aged man with thinning hair and kind but unreadable eyes. He gestured to the seats across from him.

“Please, sit.”

We did, I in the middle, Alex on my left, Tristan on my right. I felt like a child between divorced parents who hated each other more than they cared about me.

I wondered if they hated each other a little because of me now? Did I ruin someone else’s happy ending?

The doctor folded his hands calmly.

“Before I present the results, I want to remind you all that DNA testing of this kind is highly accurate. There is little room for error. Do you all understand?”

Tristan gave a curt nod, his jaw tight. Alex didn’t speak, but his glare was sharp enough to cut steel. I swallowed and managed,

“Yes.”

I nodded at the doctor to signal that I understood.

The doctor picked up the envelope. My heart dropped into my stomach, cold and heavy.

As he tore the seal, the silence was unbearable. I could hear Tristan’s heavy breathing. Alex’s knee was bouncing too fast. My own pulse thundering—too loud.

This is the most nervous I’ve ever been.

The doctor scanned the document briefly, his eyes moving with careful precision. Then he looked up.

And I swear the entire room stilled, as if the air itself held its breath.

“The results are conclusive.” His voice was steady, professional, but to me it sounded like the toll of a bell.

“Does that mean……”

The doctor nodded at me then he turned to Tristan.

“Tristan Walker… you are the biological father of Eloise Perkins.”