Chapter 4 Old Photo

Anthony quickly went into his car and opened up his phone again. Once again, he saw that word.

"Excluded."

He stared at the screen for two whole seconds.

He couldn't help but be reminded of the afternoon Timothy was born. He had grinned from ear to ear when the nurse presented the baby to him.

Then, he was reminded of the first time Timothy called him Dad. It was far from coherent, what with it being a baby's babble, but it had been the most adorable thing he had ever heard in his entire life.

He closed his eyes.

…

When he opened them, his eyes zeroed in on the results yet again. The report's conclusion was written in the first line, and it was even bolded as though to prevent any misunderstandings. The report even had it one font size bigger than the explanation.

"According to current DNA samples, the alleged father, Anthony Crestellan, is excluded as the biological father of the tested child, Timothy Crestellan."

Anthony put his phone down and placed both hands on the steering wheel. No sound could be heard from inside the car, and the glass windows did a fantastic job blocking out all the noise from the outside world. It was so quiet that he could hear his own heartbeat.

32 years.

That was how long he had lived. He had gone through his family's bankruptcy, the debt collectors' violence, and an awkward life of poverty.

Yet, nothing hit him as hard as this.

If he let his fury take over, he had a good feeling he might end up killing someone. So, he breathed in and out slowly, calming down the anger that was threatening to burn his head right off.

He kept reminding himself that he would be a proud owner of two billion, and financial freedom was right in his grasp.

Murdering those rat bastards wasn't worth it.

Shaking his head, Anthony reframed the affair another way in an attempt to keep his cool. 'I slept with someone else's wife for seven years.'

Sure enough, his anger was doused. He would make them pay for what they did, but how? Today was the last day of the waiting period. The divorce couldn't happen, not right now. He refused to let them reap the rewards of their affair.

Without concrete evidence, Linda could blithely deny that she was making him raise another man's child by claiming she had no idea the boy belonged to another man.

With how much the law was skewed toward Linda's side of the argument, she would be entitled to half of Anthony's assets if the divorce went through.

He had signed away the houses. Coupled with the money he had spent on her and her bastard, he was looking at something north of six million.

He had to ensure that she was proven to have committed marriage fraud and paternity fraud. He was going to get back all the money he spent on them, including the household expenses, wedding gifts, and the houses.

Finally, he swore to himself to find out if she had set him up seven years ago so he would raise another man's child. His mind was set. He was going to make sure that Linda wasn't going to get a dime that wasn't meant to be hers, even if it killed him.

Well, not literally.

The divorce wasn't the point. The point was chipping away at her until she crumbled under the pressure. That was going to torment her more than anything.

…

Dusk had fallen.

Anthony had come home without working as an Uber driver. He refused to slave away for this so-called home.

Linda was in the living room, lying on the couch and watching TV. There was a plate of fruit on the coffee table. Timothy's room's door was closed, but Anthony could hear the sound effects of video games coming through.

"You're home early." Linda glanced at him. "No Uber today?"

Anthony changed his shoes and sat on the couch. He took a sip of water and placed the glass back on the table. It let out a crisp clang. "We're not going to the courthouse tomorrow."

Linda turned around, utterly stunned. "What?"

"We're not getting a divorce," he explained quietly, but there was no hiding the resolute tone in his voice.

The atmosphere between them became tense.

Neither of them spoke, letting the sounds coming from the TV fill the void. Linda's face changed from one of confusion, shock, and anger before finally settling on something else he couldn't quite name.

She jumped up from the couch, clenching her jaw.

Her lips tugged awkwardly to the side as she spat, "You're not getting that divorce? So, you want to drag me and Tim down?" Her voice was shrill and grating, and her eyes nearly jumped out of their sockets.

Anthony looked her over, his heart pumping with vindictive glee. He knew she was itching to get her hands on the two houses that were worth five million combined, but now her dream had just gone up in smoke.

Still, he had to admit that her reaction was more violent than he had expected.

"I'm not planning on dragging you down." He leaned on the back of the couch and added nonchalantly, "I love you, and that's why I can't watch you suffer out there alone."

"Of course, you'll drag us down! I don't want to live a life where I have to worry about millions of dollars of debt every time I wake up." Linda was hysterical, her voice almost cracking from the screaming.

Anthony shrugged.

He knew his nonchalance was making her skin itch. Regardless, he was absolutely thriving on her hysteria, and it pleased him even more that his calmness was driving her up the wall.

"I never asked you to help out with the debt. I've never failed to put bread on the table. So, I can't help but wonder just why you're so eager to get that divorce." Anthony stopped and gazed into Linda's eyes. "Perhaps there's another reason?"

A hint of panic flickered in Linda's eyes. "I've done nothing. I'm just done with this life. Every time your paycheck lands, we have to split the money to patch up the hole your family dug. I have had enough, and I don't love you anymore! Is that reason enough?"

He merely made himself more comfortable in his seat, his eyes never leaving hers. There was no rage in his eyes, but something more like judgment. A deep part of him was reveling in his newfound confidence.

His financial freedom was assured, so now it was time to cut out the rot.

"Your falling out of love with me is your problem. Figure it out. I'm not an unlovable guy, you know." He stood up and straightened his collar before saying, "I did nothing wrong. Why should I get divorced?"

Linda wanted to say something, but she had nothing.

Her eyes were filled with shock. She met Anthony's eyes in an attempt to make him back down. Yet, he didn't look away this time.

This time, she saw no guilt or inadequacy in his eyes. Instead, there was only a strange sort of calm that freaked her out.

"You…" Linda gulped. "What do you want?"

Anthony didn't answer.

He turned and saw Timothy standing at his room's entrance. The boy had heard everything. The look on his face was a mix of shock and fear.

Anthony bent over and patted Timothy's head. "It's alright, son. Your mother was just throwing a tantrum."

His voice was unusually warm, but it chilled Linda's heart.

Anthony didn't care what those snakes were feeling as he left them to their own devices. He didn't spare them a glance as he went into his bedroom and sat on his bed. The DNA test result was still on his phone. He opened it up and read through the conclusion again.

He was now feeling very differently about that particular word.

This time, it no longer felt like hell was freezing over. He had raised that boy for six whole years. He fed him, changed his diapers, and took him to a clinic at midnight.

He did everything for the boy, but it didn't change the fact that Timothy wasn't his son.

Still, his name was written down as the boy's father, so Timothy was still legally his. Suddenly, a particular sentence rang out in his head—"Spare the rod, spoil the child."

He couldn't help but wonder whether that was true. Then again, why wonder? He had plenty of time to experiment. After all, why should he work himself to the bone when making life hard for everyone else was an option?

As he lay on his bed, cackling over his evil plans, he was suddenly reminded that he was dead broke right now. He had to fill his wallet soon. Otherwise, the private investigation wouldn't proceed.

Quincy Zimmer, a famous economist from Porton, once said that money made the world go round. Anthony's entire life story was proof of that.

It was unfortunate that the Bitcoin money wouldn't land in his account immediately. Plus, he couldn't ask his friends for more money. His pride wouldn't allow it. Fortunately, Linda has a fat purse.

He gave her 388 grand as a wedding gift before they got married, and he'd banked 8,000 into their joint account every month after they got married. He also knew that his darling cheating wife made nearly 10 grand every month.

The mortgage was paid with the money from their housing fund, so they didn't need to worry about that. The family's expenses weren't that much anyway. So, he figured she had at least a million in her account.

It would be hard to siphon the money from her, but there were always workarounds. He mulled over it for a moment and remembered his parents buying that insurance for their future grandkid before the family went bankrupt.

Since Timothy wasn't his son, Anthony would most definitely be canceling the premium the next day.

The third step was another crucial step. He needed to find out everything about Linda's affair. He needed to know who her partner was, collect all evidence about their affair, string it up into a chain of events, and get every single cent he spent on her and their son.

He closed his eyes to think about it. After a while, he opened them and noticed the icon on his phone's memo.

He opened it up a beat later.

It was an old photo of Genevieve Shaw when she was 17.

…

Linda was on the balcony. She took her phone out and tapped on WhatsApp.