Chapter 20 - THE REPORTS
When Evelina turned ten, she asked to see the DNA reports.
Not hear about them.
See them.
Dr. Cole had become occasional rather than regular therapy by then. We discussed.
Age-appropriate.
Possible.
I took both reports from the legal archive.
One direct chain-of-custody report proving paternity.
One old private report based on Osric’s mislabeled sample.
Evelina sat at my desk.
“This one says excluded.”
“Yes.”
“What does excluded mean?”
“That the sample labeled as mine could not be your biological father.”
“But it was Grandpa.”
“Yes.”
“So of course.”
“Yes.”
She stared.
“That’s stupid.”
“Yes.”
“Did lab know?”
“No.”
“Did Grandpa know?”
“Yes.”
“Did Aunt Lenora?”
“No.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
Then the legitimate report.
99.999%.
She smiled.
“Very Daddy.”
I laughed.
Then she asked:
“Why not one hundred?”
Statistics.
I called Naomi just to annoy her.
She explained over speakerphone that labs generally report probabilities rather than metaphysical certainty.
Evelina said:
“Boring.”
Naomi replied:
“Correct.”
Then Evelina looked at me.
“Would you have loved me if this one said no?”
“Yes.”
“Would Grandpa?”
Hard.
“I don’t know.”
She frowned.
Then:
“Does he love me now?”
“I believe he does.”
“Did he then?”
“I think he cared about you, but he cared about control enough to hurt you.”
She sat quietly.
Then:
“That’s not good love.”
“No.”
She folded the reports.
“Can we shred bad one?”
The official legal copy needed retention.
But we had a duplicate.
We shredded the duplicate together.
No fire.
No dramatic speech.
Paper strips.
Then she asked:
“Keep good one?”
“We have to keep official records.”
“Do we need it at Christmas?”
“No.”
She laughed.
Good.
Then Osric’s health.
At seventy-four he underwent bypass surgery after a coronary workup.
Not caused by stress.
Not punishment.
Age and genetics.
I visited.
Evelina chose to visit later.
Hospital reduced him.
Gown.
No suit.
No ring.
He hated it.
Evelina brought a deck of cards.
Beat him twice.
He accused her of cheating.
She froze for half a second.
He saw it.
Immediately:
“Bad joke. I’m sorry.”
Good.
No defending intent.
She relaxed.
Then:
“You cheat?”
“No.”
“Then Grandpa bad at cards.”
He laughed.
After surgery, Osric stepped away from almost all business commentary voluntarily.
Not because law required.
He was tired.
He began mentoring young executives through a university program, which concerned me until I saw the curriculum included ethics.
Maybe useful.
Then Lenora became chair of a nonprofit arts foundation.
No Valenti council.
She liked having authority she earned instead of inherited.
Then Northgate sold one facility years later.
Employee provisions had expired by then.
They negotiated new terms.
Business continued.
The family did not control forever.
That was okay.
Then Evelina put the good DNA report back into the archive herself.
She said:
May you like
“I don’t need it.”
That sentence mattered more than the 99.999 percent ever had.
