Chapter 8 - The Morning Verdict
The private subterranean laboratory was bathed in the sterile, fluorescent glow of overhead LED panels. Arthur Sterling stood directly in front of the high-security biometric terminal, his eyes bloodshot from a sleepless night. Next to him stood Eleanor, wearing a dark emerald silk blouse that hid her inner turmoil, and Julian, who looked pale and fidgety, constantly checking his watch.
The lab technician, a nervous young man in a white lab coat, tapped nervously on the keyboard as the final progress bar filled the computer screen.
“Printing now, Mr. Sterling,” the technician said, his voice echoing quietly in the pristine room.
The laser printer beside the console whirred to life, spitting out a single sheet of heavy-stock paper. Arthur moved faster than his years allowed, snatching the paper from the tray before the ink had even fully dried. His eyes scanned the top header, jumping straight to the genetic matching percentage at the bottom of the page.
Match Confidence: 99.98%.
Direct lineal descent confirmed: Paternal Grandfather (Arthur Sterling).
Arthur let out a ragged breath that sounded almost like a sob. The paper slipped slightly in his trembling fingers.
“It’s true,” Arthur whispered, tears welling in his eyes as he looked up at Eleanor and Julian. “She is my flesh and blood. Caroline’s daughter. My granddaughter.”
Eleanor forced a tight, brittle smile to her lips, stepping forward to place a hand on Arthur’s arm.
“Oh, Arthur, that’s… that’s wonderful news,” she lied smoothly, her internal gears turning with ruthless precision. “We must bring her down to the breakfast room immediately. We need to welcome her properly, as a true member of the Sterling family.”
Arthur narrowed his eyes, sensing the sudden, unnatural shift in his wife’s demeanor. Just hours ago, she had called the child a street scammer; now, she was playing the doting grandmother with terrifying speed.
“Where is Lily?” Arthur asked sharply, stepping back from the console. “She should be sleeping in the master guest suite.”
Before the technician could answer, the laboratory’s secure intercom system crackled to life, broadcasting the frantic voice of the head of security.
“Mr. Sterling! We have an emergency in the East Wing! The master guest suite is empty, and the security logs show someone disabled the biometric lock at four-thirty this morning!”
Arthur’s face turned the color of ash. He turned slowly to glare directly at Eleanor and Julian.
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“What did you do?” Arthur roared.
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