"What?" Sounds of shocked exclamations ca from all around the room.
"Shouldn’t it be that of mother and child?" Alia asked, moving to the edge of her seat. "If it’s Emline’s, it would be a paternity test between her and her baby, no?"
"If it’s Emline’s blood," Matteo emphasized. "But it seems like that’s not the case."
"But whose blood is this then, if not Emline’s?" Alia asked, flabbergasted. "If it’s a grandparent..." She frowned. "He couldn’t have possibly used his own parents’ blood, could he?"
"It doesn’t matter," Ronan said. "Either way, this proves that Emline has been nothing but a fucking scheming, untrustworthy liar!"
He all but jumped up from his seat, fist-pumping in the air... only to still upon eting Horace Hawthorne’s gaze. Then, Ronan turned into a stone statue, reminiscent of dusa’s victims getting petrified to stone. His lips were pursed into a fine line before he quickly sat back down.
"Sorry," he mumbled almost inaudibly under his breath, tucking his head down low.
"Either way," Matteo said, clearing his throat, "this is enough proof that I am not the father of Emline’s unborn child. Whatever she had preached to the tabloid sites ever since the wedding had been nothing but lies."
"I’ll bring this to Lady Vanity first thing in the morning― no, I’ll do it now!" Ronan said. He jumped back up again, gathering the docunts on the table. "I’ll be in the study faxing these over to their headquarters if you need ."
Escaping in a puff of smoke, Ronan was gone.
Alia stared at the now-empty table. There was just one file Ronan left behind― the one labeled ’John Smith’.
"Is there sothing wrong, Alia?" Matteo softly asked, a hand placed on her shoulder.
"It’s―" Alia caught herself before she said anything, casting a glance at her grandfather through her peripheral vision.
She caught his eye and sucked in a cold gasp of air when she noticed Horace Hawthorne had actually been looking her way all this while.
Guiltily, she turned her eyes away.
"If it’s sothing regarding Emline, you don’t have to be afraid of telling ," Horace said after a few monts of silence. "She had made her bed and must learn to lie in it. I have been too lenient with her for too long. It’s ti she grows up."
"That’s not it, Grandpa," Alia said.
She wet her lips before exchanging a glance with Matteo, who gave her a short nod.
"If I were him, I would want to know," he said to her quietly.
Alia sighed and turned to face her grandfather completely.
She then said, "We have enough reason to believe that Emline isn’t Annalise’s biological daughter."
Horace Hawthorne’s eyebrows slightly knitted themselves together but he remained quiet, his gaze shifting back and forth between Matteo and Alia, waiting for further explanation. Matteo didn’t disappoint; he went into detail about what had happened at the hospital where they found out Emline and Annalise’s blood types did not match. It wasn’t possible for them to be mother and daughter.
"So you’re saying that it’s possible Benjamin cheated on his wife," Horace Hawthorne flatly said.
"Perhaps," Matteo replied. "We have no evidence or clue as to what the truth is. This is all we know."
"And you will not rest until you get to the bottom of it," Horace added. Matteo said nothing― his silence was enough of an answer.
In the end, Horace Hawthorne could only sigh.
"Annalise cares very deeply for her daughter. All I can confirm is that she was indeed pregnant with a child — a daughter — and gave birth to a baby."
"What are the chances the baby was swapped in the hospital?" Alia asked.
"Possible," Horace said with a sigh. "It isn’t unheard of for people to swap their children with those of wealthier families, hoping to get a better life for their child. But they will have to have a very close relationship with the parent or the hospital to pull this off."
Horace then added, "As far as I rember, Emline was born in Elysium Heights Hospital. It’s a private hospital run by the Wales family. They usually do not tend to the general public due to their expensive fees."
"You seem oddly calm about this," Matteo pointed out. "Especially considering your relationship with Emline."
"If Emline isn’t a Hawthorne, then I would like to know where my real granddaughter is," Horace said.
There was an off-putting flash of coldness in his eyes, causing Alia to suck in a breath of air through her teeth. She had never seen her grandfather with such a cutthroat expression before― it was as though he could so easily abandon whatever affection he had with Emline just like that.
"But there is also an undeniable resemblance Emline has with the Hawthornes," Alia pointed out. She then clarified, "With ."
It was true. If they walked on the street side by side with similar clothes, people would all too easily assu they were sisters. Their resemblance extended beyond their blonde hair and blue-tone eyes― even parts of their facial structure looked alike.
Alia thought back to the conversation she had with Sabrina in the morning when she found out about Aiden and Emline’s secret― Sabrina had ntioned she had mistaken Emline for Alia at first. By the ti she realized it was Emline she had let into X’el, it was already too late.
"Emline could still be a Hawthorne," Matteo said. "It’s possible that Benjamin Hawthorne had a daughter out of wedlock with another woman and, for whatever reason, brought the child back for Annalise to raise."
"Then that brings the question," Alia said with a deepened frown. "Where is Annalise’s real daughter?"
The three were bathed in silence as the situation slowly sank in. The further they dug, the more questions they unearthed, all with seemingly no answers.
"Do you think Annalise knows?" Alia quietly asked.
"No," Matteo imdiately said. "She doesn’t."
"She’s too protective of Emline," Horace agreed. "You can’t fake a mother’s love like that."
"Then..."
"Fret not, Alia," Horace said. He regained his cheery and warm smile and placed a hand on Alia’s head. "I will have my n get to the bottom of this, and I have no doubt Matteo here will too."
Matteo nodded, to which Horace Hawthorne said, "Although, I do hope you can grant the wish of a humble old man."
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