“Doctor?” David asked, his voice tensed with a sudden, unformed fear. “Is my boy healthy? Look at those shoulders—he’s a fighter, isn’t he?”
Dr. Aris didn’t answer. He clicked a button on the console, zooming in on the crown-rump length. He looked at Allison, then at David, his face becoming a mask of professional neutrality.
“We have a discrepancy,” the doctor said quietly.
“A discrepancy? What does that mean?” David barked.
The doctor straightened his lab coat and pressed an intercom button. “Connect me to the legal department. And have security stand by in ultrasound room three.”
David froze. Allison’s face went from pale to translucent. The door, which hadn’t been fully latched, was pushed open by the eavesdropping Linda and Megan.
“Is something wrong with the baby?” Linda gasped.
The doctor turned to face the entire family, his voice ringing with a terrifying clarity. “Mr. Coleman, based on the fetal development, bone density, and gestational size, conception occurred exactly four weeks earlier than the dates provided on the intake forms.”
The air in the room seemed to solidify into ice. David looked at Allison. Allison looked at the floor.
“I don’t understand,” David stammered. “A month? That’s… that’s impossible. We weren’t even—”
“I mean,” the doctor interrupted, his voice dropping an octave, “that Miss Allison was already pregnant before your documented timeline of ‘exclusive intimacy’ began. By a full month.”
Chapter 3: The Ghost in the Machine
“Whose child is this?”
David’s roar echoed through the sterile halls of the clinic, a sound of primal, wounded pride. Allison sat up on the exam table, clutching the thin paper gown as if it could shield her from the sudden fury of the man she had manipulated.
“David, wait! The doctor is making a mistake! It’s just a growth spurt!” she sobbed, her voice high and desperate.
Dr. Aris shook his head. “Medicine doesn’t have ‘growth spurts’ that skip an entire month of gestation, Miss Allison. The measurements are indisputable.”
