The cafe was too quiet for my nerves. I sat in the corner booth, my hands wrapped around a coffee I hadn’t touched, my leg bouncing under the table.

I shouldn’t be here.

I knew I shouldn’t be here.

Dante would lose his mind if he knew. After everything with Melissa, after everything Angelo did, after the betrayal and the lies and the prison sentence Dante had made it very clear.

Angelo was dead to him.

Dead to our family.

Dead to everyone.

But Angelo has been messaging me for weeks now with different numbers and accounts. I blocked him; he made a new one.

Always the same message.

We need to talk.

It’s important, and there was always something if he says there is, and that’s why I’m currently here in the cafe waiting for him.

I told myself I was coming here to warn him to tell him to leave us alone and to threaten him with a restraining order.

The door opened, and Angelo walked in.

He looked different.

Thinner.

Paler.

There were shadows under his eyes.

His clothes were nice but not as expensive as before. Prison must have changed him, but his eyes were the same.

He saw me and smiled as he walked over and slid into the booth across from me.

"Ariana," he said, like we were old friends. "Thank you for coming."

"Cut the crap," I said flatly. "No pleasantries, no small talk. Say what you want, so I can leave."

He tilted his head, looking at me. That smile didn’t leave his face. "You look good as always. You’re more beautiful than ever."

I felt my face harden. "I didn’t come here to be complimented by a man who helped destroy my family."

"I didn’t destroy anything. I was trying to—"

"Oh please... like I said, just tell me what you wanted to so I could leave, I have better things to do."

Angelo’s smile flickered just for a second. Then it came back. "You’re right, I made mistakes. I was jealous and angry. Dante always had everything. The business, the respect, the perfect family. I wanted what he had. I admit it."

"Good. You admitted it, now stay away from my family and me." I started to slide out of the booth. "If you contact me again, I’m going to the police. I’ll get a restraining order. I’ll make sure you go back to prison."

I stood up in annoyance.

"Ariana, wait."

His voice changed.

"One more thing," he said quietly. "Sit down. Please."

I looked at him, really looked, his face was serious now.

The smile was gone.

His hands were on the table, fingers laced together.

"What?" I demanded.

"Sit down, Ariana. Please. What I have to say... You need to be sitting."

Something cold crept up my spine. I didn’t sit, but I didn’t leave either. I stood there, my purse clutched against my chest, my heart pounding.

"Just say it."

Angelo took a deep breath.

He looked at me with something that might have been pity or maybe regret.

"Asher isn’t your son."

The words hung in the air.

I heard them.

My brain understood the sounds, but they didn’t make sense.

They couldn’t make sense.

"What?" My voice came out strange.

"Asher," Angelo repeated slowly, "is not your son, and he’s not Dante’s son either."

I stared at him.

My mind was blank.

Empty.

Like someone had wiped it clean.

"That’s... that’s insane." I shook my head. "Asher is my son; I gave birth to him. I held him...I—"

"You had a difficult birth with the twins," Angelo interrupted with his voice so calm, too calm. "Hemorrhage. You lost a lot of blood, and you were unconscious for almost two days. Do you remember?"

My mouth was dry. "Yes, I remember. I was unconscious, but when I woke up, I was told I lost one of the babies."

"You lost all the babies, Ariana, not just Asher."

"No." I stepped back, and my legs hit the chair behind me. "No, that’s not true. You’re lying to me."

Angelo reached into his jacket.

My whole body tensed, pulling out a folded piece of paper. He slid it across the table toward me.

"I’m not lying, Ariana. I wish I were, but I’m not... the nurse that worked there was paid to pick out one of the babies that lost their mother at childbirth from among the homeless and replace it with your dead one."

I didn’t touch the paper.

I couldn’t move.

"What is that?" I whispered.

"A DNA test. Asher’s DNA and Dante’s. I had it done when I was still... involved before everything."

"You’re lying," I said again, louder this time. "You forged it. You’re trying to hurt us. You’re trying to—"

"Read it," he said quietly. "Please, just read it."

My hand was shaking when I picked up the paper I unfolded it. My eyes moved across the words I saw the technical terms.

The percentages.

The numbers and at the bottom, in bold letters, the conclusion.

Probability of paternity: 0.00%.

The tested individual is excluded as the biological father of the child.

I stared at the words.

They blurred.

Came back.

Blurred again.

"This doesn’t prove anything," I said, but my voice was weak. "It could be anyone’s DNA. You could have switched—"

"The babies you gave birth to," Angelo said gently, "died, Ariana. He didn’t survive the delivery; there were complications. The doctors couldn’t save him."

The words hit me like a physical blow. I felt my knees buckle. I grabbed the back of the chair and sank into it.

"You’re lying," I whispered. "You’re lying, you’re lying, you’re lying."

I was shaking my head, back and forth, back and forth. "No. No. No."

I couldn’t breathe.

The room was spinning.

I couldn’t process it. My brain was refusing. Rejecting.

This was too big.

Too horrible.

"But..." My voice cracked. "But I raised him, I nursed him. He’s mine, he’s my son."

"He is," Angelo said, and for the first time, his voice was soft. Genuine. "He is your son, Ariana. You raised him; that doesn’t change. Blood doesn’t make a mother. You know that."

"Then why are you telling me this?" I screamed. People in the cafe were looking at us. I didn’t care. "Why are you destroying my family? What do you want?"

Angelo leaned forward.

His eyes were intense. "Because Melissa is getting out Early release because of good behavior. She’s going to come back, Ariana, and she’s going to use this against you. I’m telling you now because you need to know..."

He stopped.

Swallowed.

I stared at him.

My whole body was shaking.

"Why should I believe anything you say?" I whispered. "You’re a liar. You’re a manipulator. You helped Melissa destroy us once. Why wouldn’t you be helping her again?"

Angelo’s face crumpled, and for a second, he looked broken.

"Because I’m dying, Ariana."

The words stopped my heart.

"What?"

"I have Liver failure, Cirrhosis. Years of drinking, the doctors say, I have maybe six months. Maybe less." He laughed, but it was hollow. "I spent my whole life jealous of Dante. Wanting what he had. Trying to tear him down and now I’m dying, and he’s alive and happy, and I’m... nothing."

He looked at me, and there were tears in his eyes.

Real tears.

"I’m not telling you this to hurt you. I’m telling you because I don’t want you falling victim to."

I sat there frozen with the paper still in my hand. The proof that my son was not my son.

A sob tore from my throat. I covered my mouth with my hand.

"I’m sorry," Angelo whispered. "I’m so sorry, Ariana, for everything. For all of it."

"I don’t forgive you," I said, my voice shaking. "I will never forgive you."

"I know."

"I never want to see you again."

"I know."

I stood up.

The paper fell from my hand.

I left it there cause I didn’t want it. I didn’t want any of it.

I walked out of the cafe.

Nothing was normal.

My son wasn’t my son, my real babies died.