DNA results

~Zara POV~

I wiped my face as I stepped out of the taxi. Blood on my fingers.

The mansion was quiet like always. Guards by the gate. Servants were trimming roses like nothing happened. Like my world hadn’t just ended.

Pain sliced through my stomach again. I ignored it. Pushed the doors open.

How do you tell a family their golden son has three secret kids? How do you say 'your son cheated' without sounding crazy?

I didn’t get the chance.

The whole Adams family was waiting in the hall. A jury. A firing squad.

Vincent Adams stood in the center. Face carved from stone. Rage rolling off him in waves.

“Mr. Adams, I’m sorry, but Wilson…”

The slap came fast. No warning. No shout. Just the crack of skin on skin and my head snapping sideways. Blood filled my mouth. Metallic. Hot.

I stumbled backward. The pain was unbearable; I heard ringing in my ears.

“Mommy!” Ivy’s voice cracked from the stairs.

I forced myself to look up. Vincent's chest was heaving. His eyes were blazing with fire.

“How dare you humiliate this family!”

Another slap. I hit the marble floor. Cold. Hard. No one moved. No one helped. Only Ivy screaming my name from above.

“I fed you! I gave you a roof after your family dumped you in debt!” Papers rained down around me. White sheets sliding across the floor like snow. Like lies.

I pushed up on shaky arms. Face throbbing. Head spinning.

“Father-in-law I…”

Vincent grabbed my hair. Yanked me up until my eyes met his. “You’re a slut. A stain on my name. I saved you from your family’s mess, and this is how you repay me? With another man’s bastard?”

“Let go…” I clawed at his hand. “Ivy is Wilson’s! She’s your granddaughter!”

Justin’s voice cut from the stairs, cold and sharp. “Stop lying, Zara. You slept around and pinned it on my brother.”

Kate scoffed. Stepmother. Enemy. The woman I’d caught with Justin last year. The reason I kept quiet. The reason Ivy still got her medicine.

Vincent shoved a paper in my face. DNA results. Bold black print: 0% probability of paternity.

The world tilted.

“No,” I whispered. “That’s fake. That’s… Ivy is Wilson’s. We raised her together.”

“Pathetic,” Vincent spat. “You and that child are out. Today.”

Ivy thrashed in Justin’s grip, tiny hands reaching for me. “Mommy”Then his voice. The one that used to whisper I love you at night.

Wilson walked in. Wet hair. Clean shirt. CEO of Adams Oil. The Adams family’s golden boy.

He didn’t look like the man I married. He looked like a stranger.

“She’s a slut,” he said flatly. “Cheated on me.”

Hate dripped from every word. Seven years. Seven years of marriage, erased in one sentence.

“We treated you like a queen,” he hissed. “And you played me. How evil are you, Zara?”

Irony burned my throat. He cheated. He had three kids in another house. He kicked me while I was pregnant.

“That’s a lie!” I screamed, voice breaking. “I gave up my career for you! I gave up everything to be your wife!”

“Did I ask you to?” He grabbed my chin, fingers digging in. “Did I tell you to sacrifice anything for me, Zara? I have everything. You have nothing.” He shoved me. I crashed to the floor.

Pain exploded in my stomach. Hot knife. Twisting. Blood pooling under me.

The whole family watched. Servants peeked from the kitchen. No one stopped it.

“I strip her of my last name,” Wilson announced. “She’s a disgrace. And she’s taking that bastard child with her.”

“Please,” I crawled toward his shoes, blood smearing the marble. “Not her. You know her condition. She’ll die without treatment. You can’t….”

“You disgust me.” His foot came down. Hard. Right on my stomach.

Black spots danced in my vision. He turned and walked to his study like I was trash he’d just taken out.

The family scattered. Show over. Justin dropped Ivy, and she ran to me, tripping over her feet.

“Mommy!” She threw her arms around me, shaking.

Kate walked past, nose in the air. “Disgraceful slut. We fed you, and this is how you...”

“Shh, baby. Mommy’s fine,” I lied, kissing Ivy’s forehead. My arms were trembling. My vision was fading.

I looked down.

Blood. So much blood. Soaking my dress. Staining the white marble red.

I lost the baby. In a house full of people. And no one cared.

Silence swallowed the room. Worse than the shouting. Ivy’s tiny hands, stained red, tried to wipe tears from my face.

“Mommy… you’re bleeding.”

I stared at the study door where Wilson disappeared. He knew. He knew I was pregnant. He kicked me anyway.

He didn’t just want a divorce.

He wanted me dead.

The papers lay scattered around us. Final. Ugly. Over.