Chapter 137

Chapter 137

Vanessa’s POV

Vanessa had always believed that fear was something you could manage if you dressed it well enough. If you sat straight, crossed your legs neatly, kept your face soft and pleasant, fear would stay where it belonged—hidden, contained and invisible to everyone else. She had lived her entire life on that principle, and it had carried her through rooms full of powerful men, through lies told convincingly enough to become truth, through moments that should have broken weaker women.

So when she took her seat in the courtroom that morning, she wore the same calm she always did. Elegant dress, neutral makeup, hands folded lightly in her lap.

No one would have guessed that her heart was beating far too fast.

She hadn't expected the courtroom to feel this way, but Vanessa noticed it immediately, the way the air seemed thicker, the way people shifted in their seats with less patience, the way even the walls felt like they were listening.

Something was about to be exposed, she could feel it in her bones.
She didn’t look at Evelyn when she walked in, she didn’t need to.

She knew exactly where Evelyn would be—beside Reed, posture stiff but proud, pretending she wasn’t terrified. Vanessa almost smiled at the thought, almost, but she restrained herself. This wasn’t the time.

A few seats away from her, Damian sat rigid, jaw clenched so tight the muscle in his cheek twitched occasionally. He hadn’t looked at Vanessa once since they arrived. That irritated her more than she wanted to admit.

He should be looking at her, she had given him certainty, she had given him peace, she had given him a child who belonged to him. Evelyn had given him chaos, questions, embarrassment, and yet here they were.

The judge entered and everyone rose. The formalities passed in a blur, and then it began.

Vanessa kept her face smooth as Nurse Felicia was called.
She felt it before she saw it—the tension ripple through the room, the slight pause in movement, the way attention sharpened. Nurse Felicia looked smaller than Vanessa remembered, less confident, her eyes darted too much.

That was inconvenient. Vanessa told herself to relax, Felicia hadn’t done anything wrong. She had simply done her job, which was deliveries, paperwork, and routine medical care. Nothing that could tie back to her.

Still, when Reed began questioning her, Vanessa felt her fingers curl slightly against her dress.

Reed’s voice was calm, too calm.
He asked Felicia about the deliveries. About Dr. Allen’s absence. About Evelyn’s medical records. Vanessa listened carefully, forcing herself not to react as Felicia answered exactly as expected.

No prior pregnancy.
No inconsistencies.
No suspicious behavior.

Fine, that was fine.Then Reed shifted, and he started asking about the DNA test.
Vanessa’s heart skipped a beat, Felicia hesitated, and then answered.

Felicia admitted she had nothing to do with the DNA testing. She hadn’t collected samples, she hadn’t overseen anything related to that process. It wasn’t done at their hospital.

Vanessa exhaled slowly, invisibly. Good, perfect, actually. Felicia was dismissed, as she stepped down, her gaze flicked, just briefly, toward Vanessa.

That was new, that was disturbing. Vanessa kept her eyes forward, expression neutral, even as something cold slid down her spine. Felicia looked afraid, not guilty, but afraid. And fear, Vanessa knew, made people unpredictable.

Before she could dwell on it, the next name was called.

Dr. Halver—the lab technician.

The room shifted, Vanessa felt it like a physical thing, like the floor tilting beneath her feet. She straightened her back, trying to make herself look confident, even though she was scared to the bones. This was the man she needed to be confident. This was the man who had assured her everything would be handled “cleanly.”
He looked fine at first, composed, professional. Glasses in place, no visible evidence of being scared.

Reed stood again.
Vanessa didn’t listen to every word after that, she didn’t need to. She understood the strategy immediately.
Reed wasn’t attacking, he was letting Dr. Halver talk.

He asked about procedures, about protocols, about who handled which samples, about timing, about rooms, and about surfaces.

Dr. Halver answered, then hesitated, then answered again.

Vanessa felt the first real crack form when Reed asked about handling multiple infant samples at once.

Dr Halver stalled.

Vanessa’s fingers tightened in her lap.
She could feel eyes shifting, attention sharpening. The judge leaned forward slightly, Damian sat straighter. Evelyn looked up with something like hope flickering in her expression.

Reed kept going, he didn’t rush, he didn’t raise his voice. He asked, calmly, whether it was recommended to handle samples that way.

“No.”

That single word landed far too loudly.
Vanessa felt heat bloom behind her ribs.
Reed asked about timing. Same day. Same room. Same surface.

Yes.
Yes.
Yes.
Each answer felt like another stone placed carefully on top of her chest.
She could feel it now—fear, real fear, creeping up her throat, tightening her breathing. She forced herself to keep still, to keep her face composed, even as her mind raced.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.
Then Reed mentioned surveillance footage. Vanessa’s breath hitched, and that was when her mask slipped off completely, she looked terrified.

She masked it quickly, turning it into a slow inhale, but it was there. The room went silent, even Dr. Halver looked startled.
Unmarked trays, temporary placement, deviations from protocol.

Vanessa stared straight ahead, refusing to look at Halver. She could feel him glancing in her direction, looking for something—assurance, instruction, rescue.

She gave him nothing. If she acknowledged him now, it would be over.
When Reed asked whether sample switching was possible under those conditions, Vanessa’s heart pounded so loudly she was certain someone could hear it.

“Possible,” Halver said.

The judge pressed, and then he said it.
“Yes.”
Possible.
The courtroom erupted into murmurs. Vanessa’s fingers dug into the fabric of her dress. She focused on breathing slowly, evenly, as if she weren’t internally unraveling.

Then came the final blow. An independent DNA test, conducted weeks later.
Confirming Evelyn Carter’s child as biologically Damian Blackwood’s.

Vanessa’s world tilted. For just one second, one fatal second, her composure slipped again. Her lips parted slightly, her chest tightened, her carefully constructed calm fractured under the weight of it.

She recovered quickly, masking her face back into neutrality, but it was too late.
She could feel it, eyes on her.
Not everyone, not yet. But some, Reed, perhaps, Evelyn, definitely. Maybe even Damian.

Fear wrapped itself around her spine.
This wasn’t over, this was just the beginning.

As the judge called for order and adjourned the session, Vanessa sat perfectly still, her mind racing faster than her body ever could. She had always known how to manipulate people, she had always known how to pull strings quietly, from behind the scenes.

For the first time since this all began, Vanessa
felt something dangerously close to doubt. Not about her plan, about whether she could still control the outcome.