Ten hours later, a sealed courier envelope arrived at the estate.

And Flynn opened it, and read the two words printed in bold across the page — Paternity: 0.00% — and walked into the room where I sat beside my sleeping son, and threw the paper down onto the nightstand.

“Pack your things,” he said, his face a mask of betrayal.

“And get out of my house.”

Chapter 11 — A Blatant Forgery

I picked up the paper and read the two words, and the air left my lungs in a sharp gasp.