Chapter 3: The DNA Trap and Betrayal
"Just a moment, Richard! She's still in the bath!" Victoria called out, forcing her voice to sound annoyed rather than terrified.
She turned to Maya, grabbing a plush white bathrobe and wrapping it quickly around the shivering child. Her mind was calculating every possible move on the chessboard. If Richard's doctor took Maya's blood, the DNA results would be manipulated or used to justify quarantining Maya in a private medical facility far away from Victoria’s reach.
"Maya, listen to me very carefully," Victoria whispered, gripping the little girl’s hands. "When we walk out there, you do not speak. You let me do all the talking. Do you trust me?"
Maya nodded vigorously, gripping Victoria’s sleeve. "I trust you, Mommy."
Victoria unlocked the bathroom door and stepped out into the expansive bedroom. Standing beside Richard was Dr. Vance-Sutton—a tall, skeletal man with cold spectacles who had been on the Vance Corporation payroll for over two decades. He was already unpacking a sterile syringe and blood collection vials on the velvet ottoman.
"There is absolutely no need for needles, Richard," Victoria said coldly, stepping between the doctor and Maya. "She is terrified. I already called my personal pediatrician, Dr. Aris. She will be here in the morning to do a full, gentle checkup."
Richard stepped forward, his tall frame casting a long, intimidating shadow over Victoria. His eyes were dead, devoid of any warmth.
"We don't wait until morning for street parasites, my dear," Richard said softly, his voice carrying a venomous edge. "We don't know what diseases she’s carrying. Dr. Sutton will take a blood and swab sample right now, or she sleeps in the pool house with the security guards."
It was an ultimatum. A clear threat. If Victoria fought too hard, she would blow her cover, and Richard would forcibly separate them.
"Fine," Victoria said coldly. She sat on the edge of the bed, pulling Maya into her lap and covering the girl's eyes. "Do it quickly, Dr. Sutton. And be gentle."
The doctor stepped forward, swabbed Maya’s mouth, and quickly drew a small vial of blood. Throughout the entire process, Victoria stared directly into Richard’s eyes. Neither of them blinked. It was a silent, psychological war between husband and wife, a quiet battleground of lies.
Once the doctor left with the samples, Richard smiled—a thin, cruel stretching of his lips.
"There now. That wasn't so hard, was it?" he said, adjusting his silk tie. "I have a charity dinner at the downtown club tonight. Do try to keep your new pet quiet while I'm gone, Victoria."
As soon as the heavy bedroom doors closed and Richard's footsteps faded down the hallway, Victoria sprung into action.
She knew Dr. Sutton would run the DNA test at the Vance lab tonight. By midnight, Richard would hold absolute proof that Maya was Victoria’s biological daughter—the legitimate heir to the Vance-Montgomery fortune, which would destroy Richard’s total control over the family trust. Once he had that proof, Maya wouldn't survive to see the sunrise.
"We need our own proof," Victoria muttered to herself.
She walked over to her vanity, grabbed a pair of sterilized tweezers, and carefully plucked three strands of hair from Maya’s head, making sure the follicles were attached. She placed them inside a clean silk tissue, then pulled three hairs from her own scalp and sealed them in a separate envelope.
She couldn't trust anyone in her social circle. She needed someone entirely outside of Richard’s sphere of influence.
Victoria pulled out her private burner phone—a simple prepaid device she had kept hidden inside a hollowed-out book in her library for emergencies. She dialed a number she hadn't called in five years.
"Hello?" a gruff voice answered on the third ring.
"Marcus," Victoria said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "It’s Victoria. I need your help. Tonight."
Marcus was an ex-police detective turned independent private investigator. He had been the only honest cop who had questioned the mysterious circumstances of her baby's death ten years ago before Victoria's father had forced the police department to close the case. He had hated Richard Vance ever since.
"I'm listening," Marcus said instantly.
"I have two DNA samples. I need them run at an independent, secure laboratory. No names, just numbered codes. I need the results by dawn," Victoria instructed. "And Marcus? I need you to look into the fire at the riverfront shack three days ago. The one that killed Martha Davis."
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"That was ruled an accidental electrical fire, Victoria," Marcus warned.
"It wasn't an accident," Victoria replied, her eyes locked on Maya, who was sleeping exhausted on the bed. "It was an execution. And we are next if I don't get the evidence to destroy him."
