My Arrogant Business Partner Bet Me $100 I Couldn't Hit a Target — Until My Old ID Card and Scar Exposed Who I Really Was to My Estranged Son
The workshop felt different the next morning. The familiar hum of machinery and the scent of oiled steel usually brought me comfort, but now, a subtle tension hung in the air. I went through the motions, polishing a vintage Winchester, my mind replaying the family council meeting. Julian was tightening the screws. I knew it. He’d try to squeeze me out entirely.
I returned to my private home workbench that evening, the one tucked away in my garage, a place of sanctuary. Here, the tools were mine alone, the projects deeply personal. It was a stark contrast to the company workshop, where every move was now under Julian’s watchful eye. He wanted me out. He wanted full control.
Meanwhile, a few blocks away, Leo Holloway was making a quiet, determined journey of his own. He walked into the sterile, quiet lobby of “GeneView Diagnostics,” a private testing facility. The fluorescent lights hummed above him, reflecting off the polished linoleum floor.
He clutched a small, clear plastic bag in his hand. Inside, carefully folded, was a paper coffee cup from the Croft & Holloway breakroom. My coffee cup.
He’d waited until I’d finished my coffee that morning, casually picking up the discarded cup from my bench. He hadn’t wanted to risk anything more direct.
The receptionist, a young woman with a polite but impersonal smile, gestured to a form. Leo filled it out quickly, his hand steady. He checked the box for “Paternity Test – Private Submission.”
“Do you have the samples?” she asked, her voice flat.
Leo nodded. He pulled out a small, sealed envelope containing a few strands of his own hair, carefully collected from his brush that morning. Then, he presented the coffee cup.
“We can extract viable cells from saliva residue,” the receptionist explained, not looking up. “Results in about two weeks.”
He paid the significant fee in cash, the stack of hundreds feeling heavy in his palm. It was almost everything he’d saved from his apprenticeship wages, but it felt necessary.
“Do you wish to be notified by phone, or mailed?”
“Mailed,” Leo said firmly. “And no calls to this number. This is strictly confidential.”
He refused to inform either Julian or me about his actions. Not until he had official documentation. The truth, if it was the truth he suspected, belonged to him first. The heavy glass door of the facility closed behind him, a quiet click that sealed his secret.
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