Rose Among Thorns

4-DNA

Older man(father):

"Eh...hi," I hear the girl next to Alice say softly, her voice almost a whisper. I study her face, unable to shake the feeling of familiarity. She looks like a mix of Beatrice and me, yet that shouldn't be possible—we never had a daughter.

"Hello," I say, trying to keep my tone calm despite the shock rippling through me. "I'm sorry, but there must be a mistake. I don't have a daughter." The girl's gaze falters, and I see a flash of uncertainty cross her face as she fidgets, her fingers twisting nervously.

Alice's voice breaks through my thoughts, firm and unwavering. "No, she is your daughter. If you have any doubts, a DNA test will settle it." There's not a hint of hesitation in her tone, as if she's already certain of the truth.

I take a steadying breath and pull out my phone. "Oliver," I say when he picks up, "come to my office. Bring a blood kit." My eyes never leave the girl as I speak, observing every nervous movement, each subtle shift in her expression. She's playing with her fingers again, her gaze darting around the room as if she doesn't know where to look. A part of me wants to reassure her, but I'm too stunned, too uncertain.

Moments later, a knock sounds at the door. "Come in, Oliver."

He steps inside, looking between Alice and the girl with a flicker of confusion. "How can I help you, Dad?" Concern lingers in his voice, his eyes studying my face as if trying to gauge the situation.

"Can you do a DNA test?" I ask him, my tone steady but with an edge of something I can't quite name. Uncertainty, maybe. Disbelief.

Oliver's brow furrows, though he nods. "Yes, I can," he says, though his voice holds a hint of reluctance. He's clearly uneasy, but he doesn't question me.

"Test the girl against me," I tell him. Turning to her, he gestures toward the hallway. "Follow me," he says, trying to keep his tone gentle but matter-of-fact. She hesitates, glancing up at Alice as if looking for guidance. Alice nods, encouraging her to go, and the girl follows Oliver out, leaving me alone with Alice.

I turn to her, keeping my tone measured, though there's a cold edge to it. "Where did you find her? And why are you so sure she's my daughter?" I don't mean to sound harsh, but this situation is too surreal, too impossible.

Alice sighs, her gaze steady as she explains. "I received a call from an old friend who mentioned seeing a girl at a diner who looked like a striking blend of you and Beatrice." She pauses, waiting for a reaction, but I keep my face blank, unwilling to let my shock show. "I decided it was time to pay Beatrice a visit," she continues, her tone growing colder. "The girl lives in a dilapidated house, in a neighborhood I wouldn't wish on anyone, especially not a child."

Alice stops, studying me carefully. "While I was there, I asked Beatrice if she had a daughter. She told me yes—and that the girl was, in her words, 'a waste of space.'" Her voice hardens as she recalls it. "I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I demanded to know how she could keep this from you, from all of us. And then the front door opened."

She stops again, seeming to search for words as she remembers. "When I saw that girl, standing there looking so much like you, there was no question. She had to come with me. I wasn't about to leave her in that house for another minute." Alice finishes her story, looking at me with an expression I can't quite read, as if daring me to doubt her.

I keep my face steady, but inside, my thoughts are in turmoil. How could this be real? Yes, there was a time I'd longed for a daughter, but I'd never believed it could actually happen. Not with Beatrice. Yet here we are, and Alice seems so certain. Could she really be... my daughter?