— My name is Yan Sokolovsky, — the man leaned on the countertop with his palms, looking at me with condescension. — And this is a DNA test.
— I don’t understand what that means…
— It means, girl, — a smirk curled at the corner of his hard mouth. — That six years ago, when you and my son decided to do IVF, the donor was me.
— That’s impossible! — I burst out in despair.
— Facts, Adelle, speak for themselves, — he grabbed the DNA results and shoved them in my face. — I’m the real father of your son. And I’m taking him.
In horror, I stared at Sokolovsky and couldn’t believe my ears. How… how could this be?! Why had my husband never mentioned that the biological father of Artem is… his own father?!