The medical analyzer on the side table emitted three sharp, electronic chimes.
The room went dead silent.
Dr. Evans stepped toward the device, his reading glasses slipping slightly down the bridge of his nose.
He lifted the printed thermal readout from the slot, his eyes scanning the cryptographic allele sequences.
The physician took a long, shuddering breath before turning toward Damon.
"Damon," Dr. Evans said, his voice cracking with pure emotion.
"The probability of paternity is ninety-nine point nine-nine percent."
"She is your daughter. She is Lily Sterling."
Mrs. Gable let out a sob, burying her face into her apron as she stood beside the door.
Damon stood frozen for a single, breathless heartbeat.
Seven years of grief, seven years of visiting an empty marble headstone in the coastal cemetery, shattered in an instant.
He turned toward the velvet armchair.
Lily sat wrapped in the blanket, looking at him with wide, curious eyes.
Damon crossed the distance between them, dropping to both knees on the Persian rug.
He reached out, his strong hands trembling as he gently cupped her soft, dirt-smudged cheeks.
"Lily," Damon whispered, a tear finally breaking past his composure and tracing down his cheek.
"I’m your father."
Lily looked at the tear on his face, then reached out a small, hesitant thumb to wipe it away.
"You gave me cake," she whispered simply.
"I will give you the world, my sweet girl," Damon choked out, pulling her small body tight against his chest.
Lily buried her face into his navy suit jacket, her tiny arms wrapping around his neck with desperate, instinctual trust.
For the first time in seven years, the hollow ache in Damon Sterling's chest was filled with life.
