Chapter 4 - The Truth in the LabThe private medical laboratory in the basement of the Holloway Estate was dead silent.
The low hum of centrifuge machines and refrigeration units provided the only background noise.
General Marcus Holloway, Tristan, Sabrina, and Grace stood outside the glass observation partition, watching through the window as military medical technician Sergeant Miller processed four separate buccal swab kits labeled Mason Holloway, Caleb Holloway, Asher Holloway, and Liam Holloway, comparing them directly against Tristan's DNA sample taken twenty minutes earlier.
Tristan hadn't spoken a single word since leaving the study. He sat in a metal chair near the wall, his head bowed in his hands, his broad shoulders shaking slightly.
Sabrina paced back and forth across the linoleum floor, her heels clicking angrily. "This is absurd! Even if they are yours, Tristan, she kept them from you! She’s alienated you for eight years! You can sue for full custody! We can take them away from her!"
Grace didn't flinch. She stood calmly beside the door, watching Sabrina with an expression of profound pity. "You think you can take my boys, Sabrina? You couldn't even handle eight minutes of their bickering in the car on the way from the airfield."
"They are Holloway heirs!" Sabrina shrieked.
"They are my sons," Grace corrected softly, her hazel eyes flashing with an unyielding, sovereign fire. "And unlike you and Tristan, I raised them to know who they are, where they come from, and how to stand on their own two feet without needing a military estate or a trust fund to validate their worth."
BEEP.
The printer beside the centrifuge machine sprang to life, spitting out a crisp, official laboratory report bearing the Department of Defense and civilian medical insignias.
Sergeant Miller opened the lab door, walking out with the folder in his hands. He handed the document directly to General Marcus Holloway.
The retired general unfolded the paper. He scanned the columns of genetic markers, his eyes widening as he reached the bottom line:
[PATERNITY PROBABILITY: 99.999%][RELATIONSHIP: BIOLOGICAL FATHER AND SONS]
General Holloway lowered the paper. He turned his head slowly, looking at his son with a look of absolute, crushing disappointment.
"You threw away four grandsons, Tristan," General Holloway whispered, his voice cracking with deep sorrow. "Because you were too arrogant to look past your own reflection."
Tristan stood up slowly. He walked to the glass window, looking inside the lab where the four boys were quietly playing chess on a magnetic board while waiting for their mother.
He reached for the door handle, his hand trembling.
"Grace..." Tristan whispered, his voice broken and hollow. "Please... let me talk to them. Just five minutes."
Grace stepped forward, blocking his path to the door. Her posture was tall, unyielding, and sovereign.
"You had eight years to talk to them, Tristan," Grace stated, her voice clear and absolute. "You chose a lie because it was comfortable. But my boys don't need a part-time father who only acknowledges them when a helicopter lands on his lawn."
She turned the handle of the lab door, stepping inside.
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"Boys," Grace called out gently. "Pack your bags. We're going home."
"Yes, Mom," Mason answered immediately, neatly packing his chess pieces into their velvet pouch, while his brothers stood up in unison, grabbing their parkas.
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