Chapter 6 - Bloodline
The state forensic laboratory in Columbia was a fortress of concrete and tinted glass, far removed from the corrupt backrooms of Charleston society.
Julian was waiting by the private staff entrance, dressed in a plain denim jacket and jeans, looking nothing like the polished young prince of the Battery. When he saw Lucia and Beatriz emerge from an unmarked taxi, he let out a visible breath of relief.
"You're late," Julian said, his eyes scanning the perimeter.
"We had uninvited guests at the townhouse," Lucia said, showing him the scrape across her knuckles.
Julian’s face hardened. "Victoria. She’s completely unhinged. She knows that if Eleanor’s trust defaults to you, the federal auditors will immediately look into the maritime shell companies she and my father created. They’ve been embezzling millions through offshore accounts in Grand Cayman. You aren't just an heir to them, Lucia—you're a walking prison sentence."
They entered the secure facility through Julian’s friend, Dr. Marcus Reed, a stoic forensic pathologist who asked no questions and demanded total adherence to protocol. Within fifteen minutes, Dr. Reed had taken buccal swabs from Lucia and cross-referenced them with the cellular samples Julian provided from Arthur Montgomery.
"Normally, a full panel takes three to five business days," Dr. Reed stated, sliding the test tubes into a high-speed thermal cycler. "Using our emergency rush protocol, I can have a 24-marker genetic profile completed in four hours. But you three need to stay in this room. If anyone leaks that this test is being run, my license is on the line."
The four hours felt like four centuries.
Lucia sat against the linoleum wall, holding Eleanor’s diary against her chest. Julian sat opposite her, rolling a silver coin across his knuckles.
"She loved jasmine," Julian said quietly, breaking the silence. "My mother told me Eleanor used to plant jasmine vines all along the harbor seawall. She said they were the only flowers tough enough to survive the salt spray and still bloom sweet."
Lucia looked at him, feeling the warmth of true family for the first time. "I grew up thinking my mother was a tired laundry worker who couldn't afford to buy me new school shoes. But Clara loved me. She protected me every single day. Victoria had everything—wealth, status, luxury—and she destroyed her own family for more."
"Wealth without honor is just expensive rot," Julian said bitterly. "My father was weak. He let Victoria pull the strings because he was terrified of failure. But that ends today."
At 6:30 PM, the thermal cycler chimed.
Dr. Reed printed the multi-page analysis and studied the charts under the fluorescent light. His expression remained unreadable as he stamped the bottom of the document with the official seal of the State Forensic Bureau.
He walked over and handed the sheet directly to Lucia.
"Congratulations, Miss Montgomery," Dr. Reed said calmly. "The statistical probability of parentage between you and Arthur Montgomery’s immediate sibling is 99.98 percent. You are Eleanor Montgomery’s daughter. Genetically, legally, and unequivocally."
Tears sprang to Lucia’s eyes, hot and freeing. She pressed her fingers against her lips, looking down at the irrefutable truth printed on official paper. The phantom of Aurelia Montgomery had finally been given flesh and bone.
Suddenly, Lucia’s phone chimed. It was a video message from an unknown number.
With a sinking stomach, Lucia pressed play.
On the screen was Clara, tied to a wooden chair inside what looked like an abandoned boathouse, her lip split and bleeding. Standing behind her, holding a pair of heavy pruning shears, was Arthur Montgomery.
Victoria’s chilling voice spoke over the audio:
May you like
>*"The DNA won't matter if your precious laundry maid dies before she can testify in court, Aurelia. The old Montgomery shipping pier. Number 4. Come alone in one hour, or Clara feeds the harbor crabs."*
***
