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