Chapter 60: DNA DOESN'T LIE

Eleanor didn’t just cry; she literally had a total meltdown.

Seeing a woman who usually treats a chipped nail like a global crisis actually lose her mind was wild. She was pacing the floor, hugging a pillow, and staring at the baby monitor like it was a horror movie.

"I need a test, Althea," she whispered, her voice shaking. "I need to know. Like, right now."

I didn't even argue. I called Julian—who basically has a "guy" for everything—and by 2:00 a.m., we were at a 24-hour private clinic that charges "I-have-secrets" prices. The ride there was awkward. Eleanor just stared out the window looking completely drained.

We did the swab. The doctor promised the results in four hours because we paid the "hurry up" fee. Then, we waited.

We went back to her place. The sun was starting to come up, and the whole "secret baby swap" thing felt like a fever dream. Eleanor was just sitting in the nursery, watching the baby sleep.

"If she’s not mine, Althea..." she said, her voice trailing off. "I’ve spent months loving her. I’ve held her every night. How do I just hand her over? And where is my actual daughter?"

I didn't have an answer. I just sat on the floor, thinking about how much of a villain Alan was. Imagine being such a hater that you’d play with your own kid’s life just to keep your bank account looking cute. It’s disgusting.

At 6:15 a.m., my laptop made that "new email" sound.

Eleanor jumped. I opened the PDF, my hands shaking so bad I almost dropped the mouse. I scrolled past all the boring medical words looking for the one thing that mattered.

Probability: 99.99%.

I blinked. I read it three times just to be sure.

"Eleanor," I breathed. "It says she’s yours. Like, for real. She’s your biological kid."

Eleanor snatched the laptop. She was breathing so hard she looked like she’d just run a marathon. "What? But the video... I saw him, Althea. I saw him switch them!"

"I know," I said, my brain trying to catch up. "But DNA doesn’t lie. This is your baby."

Right then, my phone buzzed. It was another file from Julian.

"Found the rest of the clip. You’re gonna want to see what happened at 3:00 a.m."

I hit play.

It was the same nursery, like fifteen minutes after Alan had walked out thinking he was a genius. The room was quiet, and then this older nurse walked in.

She wasn't just doing a random check. She walked straight to the babies Alan had messed with. She looked at the tags, then at the babies, and then she looked right at the security camera with a look that said, "Nice try, loser."

She was one of those "don't play with me" nurses. Without wasting a second, she checked her tablet, confirmed the real birth records, and swapped the tags back. Then, she moved the babies back to where they belonged.

She even gave Eleanor’s daughter a little pat on the head before walking out.

The nurse had fixed it.

Alan had committed the "perfect" crime, and ten minutes later, a nurse who actually has a heart completely deleted his work.

Eleanor started laughing, but it was that scary, "I've finally snapped" kind of laugh. "She’s mine. He failed, Althea. He tried to throw her away, and he couldn't even get that right."

But then, the vibe changed. The relief turned into a cold, scary energy.

"Wait," I said. "If the nurse switched them back... then the woman in the hoodie? The one Alan is meeting at the docks right now?"

"She’s been raising her own child," Eleanor said, a wicked grin spreading across her face. "She knows her baby is hers. She’s been playing Alan the whole time."

I felt a chill. "She realized Alan thought he succeeded. She probably saw him do it, or the nurse told her. And instead of saying anything, she decided to get his money."

"She’s been blackmailing him for a crime he didn't even actually finish," Eleanor said, standing up and fixing her hair like she was getting ready for a fight. "And he’s so full of himself that he’s been handing over millions to keep a secret that isn't even true."

I looked at the clock. It was almost 7:00 a.m. "The meeting at the docks is in thirty minutes."

Eleanor walked over to the mirror and put on her brightest red lipstick. It was her "I’m about to end this man's career" look.

"Althea, get the car," she said. "We aren't going there to stop him. We’re going there to watch him realize he’s been scammed."

The docks were foggy and smelled like salt. We stayed back, parked behind a big shipping container. Rowan had met us there, looking completely stressed out after I told him everything.

"I can't believe this is my life," Rowan muttered. "My dad... JC... and now this? Why can't we just be a normal family and go to brunch?"

"Shh," I whispered. "Look."

In the distance, Alan’s silver car was parked. He was standing there, looking over his shoulder like a total sketch-ball. The woman in the hoodie was there too.

Alan handed her a heavy bag. Probably the "final payment" he thought would save him.

"Is it all there?" the woman asked.

"Everything," Alan snapped. "Now give me the drive and the logs. We are done. I never want to see you again."

The woman pulled back her hoodie. She was literally laughing.

"You know, Alan," she said, tossing the bag of money into her car. "You really should have checked the DNA yourself. But I guess you were too busy being a 'boss' to notice the nurse caught you."

Alan froze. "What?"

"The babies were swapped back before they even left the hospital, you moron," she laughed. "I’ve been raising my own daughter this whole time. This money? This is just 'stupid tax' for thinking you could steal a kid."

Alan looked like he’d been punched in the face. He stumbled back, looking like he was about to faint. "You lied? I’ve been paying you for nothing?"

"Not for nothing," a new voice said.

Eleanor stepped out from behind the container, looking absolutely iconic. Rowan and I were right behind her.

"You’ve been paying for the privilege of staying out of jail," Eleanor said, walking right up to him. "But the subscription just expired."

Alan looked at her, then at us, then back at the woman. He realized he was cooked. He had no cards left.

"Eleanor, I can explain—" Alan started, his voice cracking.

"Don't," she said, holding up a hand. "I’ve already called the board. I’ve already called the police. And most importantly? I’ve already called Isabella Simmons. Your reputation is being deleted from the internet as we speak."

I stood next to Rowan, watching the man who thought he was a king fall apart.

Alan had tried to play a game with kids and bank accounts, but he forgot the one rule: Never think you're smarter than a mother who has the receipts.

As the sirens started getting louder in the distance, I looked at Rowan and squeezed his hand.

"So," I whispered. "About that wedding?"

Rowan laughed, a real, tired laugh. "Let's just make sure your mom handles the guest list. I don't want any more drama."

"Deal," I said.

The sun was up. The nightmare was over. And for the first time, I realized that being a Simmons and marrying a Pierce meant one thing:

The villains never win. They just end up on the news.