CHAPTER 19: THE BLOODLINE

POV: ANASTASIA

The word DNA stayed in my head long after Rafe left the room.

It sounded simple. Almost harmless. A test. A sample. A laboratory report. But somehow, that small test had the power to rearrange everything I thought I knew about myself. I stared at the folder Rafe had left on the table.

For twenty-seven years, I had been Anastasia Grace. Clara’s daughter. A kindergarten teacher. A woman with an ordinary life and ordinary problems. Now everyone was looking at me as if I might be something else entirely. An heir. A Devereaux. Someone important enough for armed men to break into my home and risk attacking a heavily guarded compound.

I hated it.

“I’ll do it.”

Jaxon looked at me. “You don’t have to decide tonight.”

“I’ve already decided.” My voice sounded steadier than I felt. I picked up the folder and turned it over in my hands.

“If Victor Devereaux really is my father, I need to know. And if he isn’t…” I paused, struggling to finish the thought. “I need to know that too.”

Jaxon nodded.

“We’ll arrange it.”

I looked at him sharply. “You’re coming with me?”

“If you want me there.”

Something about the way he said it caught me off guard. Not I will be there or You’re not going alone. He had given me a choice. It shouldn’t have mattered as much as it did.

“Yes,” I said quietly. “I want you there.”

His eyes held mine for a moment before he looked away.

Rafe handled the arrangements through a private medical contact. Jaxon didn’t tell me much about the details, and for once, I didn’t ask. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know how many doors men like him could open simply because of who they were.

The following afternoon, we drove out of the compound. I sat in the passenger seat while Jaxon drove, one hand resting on the steering wheel and the other near the gearshift. He was unusually quiet. So was I.

The Peak District rolled past the windows, green hills disappearing behind us as the road carried us farther from the compound.I watched the scenery without really seeing it.

“Do you think it’ll change everything?” 

Jaxon’s eyes remained on the road. “The result?”

“Everything.”

He was silent for a few seconds. “It might change what you know, but not who you are.”

I lowered my gaze. “That’s what everyone keeps saying.”

“Because it’s true.”

I gave a small, humorless laugh. “You don’t understand.”

“Then explain it.”

I turned toward the window again. “If the test says he’s my father, then suddenly I’m not just me anymore. I’m the daughter of Victor Devereaux. People will look at me differently. They’ll expect something from me.” I swallowed. “And if it says he isn’t my father, then what? All of this disappears? The attacks? My mother’s secrets? The people who have been watching me?”

“No.” His answer came immediately. “Then we find out why they wanted you.”

I looked at him. Jaxon glanced over briefly. “The test gives us one answer. It doesn’t give us every answer.”

There was something reassuring about that. For the first time since this nightmare began, I felt like I wasn’t being asked to solve my entire life in one afternoon.

We arrived at the clinic shortly after. The procedure itself was almost disappointingly ordinary. A few questions, a sample, a signature. Then it was over. I walked back outside feeling strangely empty. That was it? Twenty-seven years of secrets reduced to a swab and a laboratory report. I stood beside the car, staring at the building behind us.

“I hate this.”

Jaxon closed his door. “What?”

“That piece of paper gets to tell me who I am.”

He walked toward me but stopped a few feet away. “It doesn’t.”

“It could tell me I’m a Devereaux.”

“It can tell you whether you’re biologically related to Victor.”

I frowned. “That’s not the same thing.”

“No,” his voice softened. “It isn’t.”

I looked down at my hands. “My mother spent my entire life trying to keep me away from that name. Now I’m standing here waiting for a test to tell me whether I’ve belonged to it all along.”

Jaxon didn’t immediately answer. Instead, he reached out and gently took the folder from my hands before I could crush its edges any further. “You’ve belonged to yourself all along, Anastasia.”

I looked up. His expression was serious.

“Whatever that result says, you’re still the woman who walked into my compound and argued with me about every rule I gave you.”

Despite everything, a small smile touched my lips. “I didn’t argue with every rule.”

“Most of them.”

“Because most of them were ridiculous.”

His mouth almost curved. “That’s exactly what I mean.”

The light moment faded as quickly as it came. I studied him, feeling the weight of a question I’d been terrified to voice.

“Jaxon?”

“Hm?”

“If the test says I’m nobody important…” I forced myself to continue. “If I’m not Victor Devereaux’s daughter, if there’s no inheritance, no powerful family, no reason for you to keep protecting me…” My voice grew quieter. “Would you still protect me?”

Jaxon didn’t hesitate. “I would protect you even if you had nothing.”

The words landed harder than I expected. I looked away because suddenly I couldn’t hold his gaze.He stepped closer. “Anastasia.”

I shook my head, pretending to watch the cars passing on the road. “You don’t have to say anything else.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

That made me look at him again. He was watching me with that same quiet intensity that always made it difficult to hide what I was feeling.

“I meant what I said,” he added softly.

My throat tightened. “Why?”

His jaw shifted. For a moment, I thought he would give me another answer about Clara, another reminder of the promise he made four years ago. Instead, he simply said, “Because you’re you.”

My heart gave an uncomfortable little beat. I looked away before he could see how much those words affected me.

The drive back was quieter, but it didn’t feel as heavy. When we returned to the compound, Rafe was waiting near the entrance. He took one look at my face and seemed to understand I wasn’t ready for conversation.

“The lab said they’ll contact us as soon as the results are available,” Rafe said. “Could be tomorrow. Could be sooner.”

I nodded and walked inside.

That night, sleep barely came. Every time I closed my eyes, I imagined the same piece of paper: Victor Devereaux. Not Victor Devereaux. My entire life seemed to hang between two possibilities.

Sometime after midnight, I gave up trying to sleep and walked downstairs. The compound was quiet, most of the lights dimmed. I found Jaxon sitting alone in the main room, a cup of coffee untouched beside him.

He looked up when I entered. “Can’t sleep?”

“No.”

He pushed the chair beside him back with his foot, and I sat down. For several minutes, neither of us spoke. I wasn’t sure what I wanted from him, maybe nothing. Maybe just knowing he was there was enough. Then his phone rang. Jaxon looked at the screen, his expression changing instantly. He picked it up. “Jaxon.”

He listened in silence as the tension slowly gathered across his shoulders. “How long ago?” A pause. “Send it to the compound.”

He ended the call, and my stomach tightened into a knot. “What happened?”

He looked at me. “The results are here.”

Everything inside me went still. Jaxon stood, looking almost as uncertain as I felt. Rafe appeared in the doorway moments later, holding a sealed envelope, and placed it on the table between us.

My name was printed across the front in dark ink: ANASTASIA GRACE.

I stared at it. Twenty-seven years of questions were sitting inside that paper. Jaxon looked at me, neither of us reaching for it.

Then Rafe said quietly, “We need to talk before you open this.”

My heart stopped. “Why?”

Rafe’s eyes moved from me to Jaxon. “Because the result isn’t the only thing that came back.”