Part 2: My ex-husband, the most feared mafia boss in New York, ordered two hundred wealthy guests locked inside a charity ballroom after my five-year-old son asked why they had the same face.

Before Gabriel could answer, the salon doors swung open. Dr. Hayes, Gabriel’s personal physician for over a decade, rushed inside with a leather medical kit, his breathing ragged and his tie askew. Behind him stood Marco, looking grim.

"Mr. Vance," Dr. Hayes stammered, wiping sweat from his forehead. "I have the rapid PCR sequencer from the clinic. Results will take twenty minutes once samples are secured."

"Do it," Gabriel ordered hoarsely, but his eyes were fixed on the floor, his mind visibly reeling from what I had just told him.

Dr. Hayes approached the couch cautiously, offering a gentle smile to the triplets. "Hello, young men. Just a quick tickle on the inside of your cheek, alright? Nothing that hurts."

Julian looked up at me for permission. I nodded softly. "It’s okay, sweetheart. Let the doctor do his job."

One by one, the boys opened their mouths. Leo went first, stoic and unblinking. Julian winced slightly but held still. Mateo giggled when the cotton swab brushed against his cheek, breaking the suffocating tension in the room for a fleeting second.

When the doctor turned toward Gabriel, Gabriel didn't wait for instructions. He snatched the sterile swab, aggressively scraped the inside of his own cheek, and handed it back. "Run it in front of me."

"Yes, sir. Right here." Dr. Hayes set up a portable thermal cycler on the low coffee table, snapping the cartridges into place. The machine hummed to life with a quiet, persistent whir.

Outside the heavy oak doors, raised voices suddenly erupted.

"Get out of my way, Marco! I am his fiancée!" Serena’s voice shrieked.

The door burst open. Serena stood on the threshold, her designer gown slightly disheveled, her chest heaving with fury. Several high-profile board members and two city officials lingered in the hallway behind her, craning their necks to see what was happening inside.

"Gabriel, this circus has gone far enough!" Serena marched into the room, pointing an accusatory finger at me. "The guests are demanding to be released! The mayor’s office is calling! You are ruining five years of diplomacy over a fraudulent gold-digger and her bastards!"

Gabriel didn't yell. He didn't explode. He simply turned around, and the predatory calm that settled over his face was far more terrifying than any rage.