Chapter 8 - THE DNA RESULT
Z
The paternity test happened three days later.
Not because Beckett doubted Celeste.
Because Violet insisted.
"I don't want this questioned later," she said.
Beckett sat across from her in Dr. Brennan's office.
"Neither do I."
The laboratory technician collected samples.
Celeste protested furiously.
Beckett looked offended on her behalf.
"That swab was unnecessarily aggressive."
The technician tried not to smile.
Violet didn't try.
"You negotiate drug patents with governments, but a cotton swab is where you draw the line?"
"It made her cry."
"Babies cry."
"I object."
"You can file a complaint with management."
"I am management."
"Exactly the problem."
Three days later, the result arrived electronically.
Probability of paternity: 99.99%.
Beckett stared at the screen.
Violet watched him.
"Surprised?"
"No."
"Then what?"
He turned the phone toward her.
"May I print it?"
She laughed.
"Why?"
"I want a copy."
"For legal records?"
He hesitated.
"For me."
Violet's smile faded into something softer.
"Okay."
That afternoon, Beckett went to city records with Violet.
No assistant.
No attorney.
No private office arranged in advance.
They waited forty-three minutes beneath fluorescent lights.
Beckett looked miserable.
Violet enjoyed every second.
"Normal people wait in lines."
"It's inefficient."
"It's civilization."
"It's institutionalized inefficiency."
When they reached the clerk, Beckett signed the acknowledgment of paternity.
Then his hand stopped.
The document included the baby's full legal name.
Celeste Marie Laru.
He looked at Violet.
"You didn't use Valiant."
"No."
"Why?"
"You weren't there."
The answer wasn't cruel.
That made it hurt more.
The clerk glanced between them.
"Are you requesting a name amendment?"
Beckett immediately said, "No."
Violet looked surprised.
He continued.
"Her mother chose her name."
The clerk nodded.
Beckett signed.
Outside, Violet asked, "You don't care?"
"Of course I care."
"Then why didn't you ask?"
He looked at her.
"Because being her father isn't dependent on whether my surname appears on her paperwork."
That was not the Beckett she had left.
"You've changed."
"Seven days ago, I didn't know I had a daughter."
"That's not what I meant."
He understood.
They walked in silence.
Then Beckett said, "I've updated my will."
Violet stopped.
"No."
"What?"
"Absolutely not."
He frowned.
"Celeste is my heir."
"She's five weeks old."
"Six tomorrow."
"That's not helping."
"Violet—"
"I don't want hundreds of millions hanging over her head."
"It doesn't have to."
"You're talking about making a baby one of the richest children in America."
"Technically, she already is."
Violet groaned.
"Stop saying things like that."
Beckett almost smiled.
"I created a trust."
"Of course."
"It cannot be fully accessed until she's thirty."
Violet blinked.
"Thirty?"
"There are educational and healthcare provisions before that."
"Why thirty?"
"Because I was twenty-two when I inherited voting shares and I was an idiot."
"You were never an idiot."
"I purchased a vineyard because someone told me it was undervalued."
"That's not normal-people stupidity."
"I also bought a motorcycle."
"You hate motorcycles."
"I know."
Violet laughed.
Then she became serious.
"I don't want money replacing you."
His expression changed.
"It won't."
"You can't send gifts when you're too busy."
"I won't."
"You can't have assistants remember birthdays."
"I won't."
"You can't promise her things and cancel."
"I won't."
"Beckett."
He stepped closer.
"I missed her birth."
His voice was low.
"I missed the first time she opened her eyes. I missed the first time you held her."
Pain moved through his expression.
"You think I intend to voluntarily miss anything else?"
Violet looked away.
Her phone buzzed.
A message.
UNKNOWN NUMBER.
She opened it.
Three photographs appeared.
Beckett entering her apartment.
Beckett holding Celeste.
Violet leaving city records beside him.
Below them was a message.
YOU THINK HE CHANGED?
ASK HIM ABOUT ADRIANA COLE.
Violet went still.
Beckett noticed.
"What?"
She turned the phone toward him.
His face became blank.
Too blank.
"Who's Adriana Cole?"
He didn't answer quickly enough.
Violet's stomach dropped.
"Beckett."
"She's an executive at Valiant."
"That isn't what I asked."
He sighed.
"After you left, there were rumors."
"Rumors about what?"
"That we were involved."
"Were you?"
"No."
"Did you kiss her?"
Silence.
Violet felt something inside her break.
"Did you?"
"Once."
She stepped back.
"When?"
Beckett closed his eyes.
"Three weeks after you disappeared."
Violet laughed bitterly.
"Of course."
"It meant nothing."
"It always means nothing when men get caught."
"Violet."
"You searched for me?"
"Yes."
"While kissing another woman?"
"It happened once."
"Did you sleep with her?"
"No."
"Do you expect me to believe you?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
His answer came quietly.
"Because even when I thought you had left me forever, I couldn't make myself belong to anyone else."
Violet wanted to believe him.
That was exactly why she was afraid.
Then Beckett looked again at the anonymous message.
"This isn't about Adriana."
"What?"
"Someone took these photos today."
He enlarged one.
The angle had been captured from across the street.
"This person followed us."
Violet's anger disappeared.
May you like
Beckett's did not.
"Whoever leaked Celeste to the press isn't finished."
