Updated Apr 16, 2026 • ~13 min read
Chapter 11: The Paternity Test
Matthias
The paternity test results arrive via secure email on Wednesday morning, exactly one week after the lab technician swabbed Matthias’s cheek and Sofia’s (Luna present and silent, her hostility so thick Matthias could barely breathe through it), and even though Matthias knows what the results will say—has known with absolute certainty since the moment he saw Sofia’s grey eyes looking back at him—his hands still shake when he opens the PDF attachment, still trembles when he scrolls down to the conclusion section, still experiences a physical jolt when he reads the words that change everything.
*Probability of Paternity: 99.9%*
*Matthias Wolfe is the biological father of Sofia Vega.*
Matthias stares at that sentence for a long moment, the clinical language somehow making the reality more concrete than all his private certainty—this isn’t speculation or assumption or hopeful pattern-matching, this is scientific fact, documented and legal and irrefutable, proof that the three-year-old girl with his mother’s eyes and Luna’s smile is his daughter, his responsibility, his family in the most fundamental biological sense.
He’s a father.
The realization hits him again with fresh force even though he’s known it for a week, even though he’s spent every day since the discovery thinking about nothing except Sofia and how to be in her life and how to repair the damage his lawyer’s letter caused with Luna—but seeing it confirmed in official documentation makes it real in a way that changes something fundamental in Matthias’s chest, makes him feel simultaneously larger and smaller, more powerful and more vulnerable, capable of anything and terrified of everything.
He has a daughter.
And he’s missed three years of her life.
The grief of that loss threatens to drown him again, makes tears burn at the back of his eyes that he can’t quite control because the test results confirm not just paternity but also everything he’s lost—three years of Sofia growing and learning and becoming a person while Matthias remained ignorant, three years of moments he can never get back, three years that are gone forever no matter how many years he gets going forward.
But he’ll have going forward, that’s the thing—the paternity test establishes his legal rights, gives him standing to petition for custody or visitation, protects him from Luna deciding to move away or cut him off or deny his relationship with his daughter, and even though Matthias hates that their situation has devolved into legal frameworks and court documents, he’s also grateful for the protection they provide.
Except he doesn’t want to need protection from Luna, doesn’t want their co-parenting relationship to be defined by lawyers and court orders and the adversarial machinery of custody battles—and the past week of silence from her, of text messages going unanswered and phone calls being blocked, has given Matthias too much time to think about what he’s done, how he’s approached this situation, whether sending that letter was protective strategy or the biggest mistake he could have made.
He calls Richard Morrison the instant he finishes reading the paternity test results, his attorney answering on the second ring with professional efficiency.
“The results came through,” Matthias says without preamble. “99.9% match. She’s mine.”
“Congratulations,” Richard says, and there’s genuine warmth in his voice beneath the professional tone. “That’s wonderful news. Now we can move forward with the custody petition—”
“No,” Matthias interrupts, the word coming out more forcefully than he intended. “No custody battle. I want joint custody, but no court. We negotiate.”
There’s a pause on Richard’s end, the kind of silence that suggests an attorney recalibrating strategy, adjusting to new parameters from a client who’s changing his mind mid-plan.
“She might fight,” Richard says carefully. “Her response to your letter was… adversarial. She retained legal aid representation, told us all communications should go through her attorney. That’s not usually the posture of someone willing to negotiate reasonably.”
“Then I’ll convince her,” Matthias says, and he can hear the desperation in his own voice, the need to fix what he’s broken. “But I won’t traumatize my daughter with a custody battle. I won’t make her watch her parents fight in court. I won’t do that to her—to either of them.”
“Matthias—” Richard starts, probably about to explain why this is strategically inadvisable, why showing weakness invites Luna to demand unreasonable terms, why Matthias should press his advantage while he has it—but Matthias doesn’t want to hear it, doesn’t want advice that prioritizes winning over what’s actually best for Sofia.
“I made a mistake,” Matthias admits, the words tasting like failure but also like truth. “Sending that letter—it was the wrong approach. I scared Luna, made her think I was trying to take Sofia away, when what I actually want is to be part of my daughter’s life without destroying her relationship with her mother. So no court. No custody battle. We find another way.”
Richard is quiet for a long moment, and Matthias can practically hear him thinking, weighing his obligations as an attorney against his client’s clearly stated wishes.
“If you want to negotiate directly with Ms. Vega, you’ll need to withdraw the legal petition,” Richard says finally. “Apologize for the aggressive approach. Propose mediation instead of court. And be prepared for the possibility that she says no, that she’s too angry or too scared to trust you again.”
“I’ll take that risk,” Matthias says, because what’s the alternative—force Luna into court, win custody through legal warfare, and have Sofia grow up knowing her father got access to her by threatening her mother? That’s not the relationship Matthias wants, not the family he’s trying to build, not the man he wants to be as a father.
“I’ll draft a withdrawal letter,” Richard says with the resigned tone of an attorney who knows his client is making an emotionally driven decision instead of a strategically sound one. “And a new proposal for mediation. But Matthias—if she refuses, if this doesn’t work, you need to be prepared to go back to the legal route. You can’t just give up your rights because you feel guilty.”
“I’m not giving up my rights,” Matthias clarifies. “I’m choosing connection over control. There’s a difference.”
He ends the call and sits in his office staring at the paternity test results still displayed on his laptop screen, at the clinical language that confirms what his heart has known for a week, and tries to figure out how to fix this—how to convince Luna that he’s not her enemy, how to prove that his goal is co-parenting and not custody warfare, how to build a relationship with Sofia that doesn’t require destroying her mother’s trust in the process.
The answer, he realizes, is probably the same thing it’s always been—show up, be honest, and refuse to give up even when Luna makes it difficult.
He spends the rest of Wednesday drafting and redrafting a message to Luna, trying to find words that don’t sound like manipulation or empty promises, trying to convey genuine remorse without seeming weak, trying to open a dialogue that she’s determinedly closed.
By the time he’s satisfied with the text, it’s almost midnight, and Matthias knows Luna is probably asleep—but he sends it anyway, desperate to reach her, to at least try to repair what he’s broken:
*Luna – The paternity test results came back. 99.9% match. Sofia is officially my daughter, which I knew but now it’s legally confirmed. I know you’re angry about the lawyer letter, and you have every right to be. I panicked. I was scared you’d change your mind about letting me see her, scared I’d lose her before I even got to know her, and I made a terrible decision trying to protect myself legally instead of trusting you. I’m sorry. I’ve told my attorney to withdraw the custody petition and propose mediation instead. No court, no battle, just us trying to figure out what’s best for Sofia. Please give me another chance to do this right. For her sake if not for mine. – M*
He doesn’t expect a response and doesn’t get one, the message showing as “delivered” but not “read,” which probably means Luna still has him blocked or is simply ignoring anything that comes from his number—and Matthias has to accept that he might have destroyed any possibility of reconciliation, that his decision to lawyer up immediately might have cost him the trust he can never earn back.
But he has to try.
The next morning, Matthias does something he hasn’t done in years—he clears his entire schedule for the day, tells his assistant to cancel all meetings and conference calls and appointments, and drives to Queens to Luna’s apartment without warning or invitation because showing up unannounced worked once before and might work again, or might result in her calling the police, but at least he’ll have tried.
It’s nine o’clock on a Thursday morning when Matthias knocks on her door, early enough that Sofia might still be at home before daycare, late enough that Luna should be awake—and he waits in the hallway with his heart pounding and his carefully prepared speech running through his head on repeat.
The door opens to reveal Luna in professional clothes, clearly about to leave for work, and the instant she sees him her expression hardens into something between anger and fear.
“You need to leave,” Luna says immediately, her voice low and controlled. “I told you—all communication through attorneys. This is harassment.”
“I’m withdrawing the custody petition,” Matthias says quickly, before she can close the door in his face. “Richard is filing the paperwork today. No court, no legal battle. I’m sorry, Luna. I made a mistake.”
Luna pauses, her hand still on the door, and Matthias can see the war happening behind her eyes—the desire to believe him fighting against the fear that he’s manipulating her again, that this is some new legal strategy designed to lower her defenses.
“Why should I believe you?” Luna asks, and her voice cracks slightly on the question, revealing the hurt underneath the anger. “You promised to take it slow, to respect my boundaries, and then you sent lawyers within twenty-four hours. How do I know this isn’t just another tactic?”
“You don’t,” Matthias admits, because lying or making guarantees he can’t keep will only make things worse. “I can’t prove my intentions. I can only show you through my actions going forward. But Luna, I don’t want to fight you. I don’t want Sofia to grow up with parents who are at war. I want to co-parent with you, work together for her benefit, be a real father instead of just a name on legal documents.”
“Then why the lawyer letter?” Luna demands, and tears are starting to gather in her eyes even though she’s clearly trying to hold them back. “Why threaten me with court if all you wanted was to co-parent?”
“Because I was terrified,” Matthias says, the admission costing him his pride but buying him honesty. “Terrified you’d take her away. Terrified I’d lose her before I got to know her. Terrified that without legal protection, my relationship with my daughter would depend entirely on your continued cooperation, and I panicked and made the wrong choice trying to secure my rights instead of building trust.”
Luna is silent for a long moment, studying his face like she’s trying to read his sincerity, trying to determine if this is genuine remorse or skilled performance—and Matthias holds her gaze, lets her see whatever she needs to see, refuses to look away or hide behind professional distance.
“One chance,” Luna says finally, and the words sound like they’re being dragged out of her against her better judgment. “One more chance to prove you’re serious about co-parenting and not custody warfare. But Matthias—if you send lawyers at me again, if you threaten court, if you try to use your money or power to take her from me, we’re done. I will fight you with everything I have, and Sofia will learn that her father is someone who destroys families instead of building them.”
The threat is clear and Matthias nods his acceptance, grateful for the chance even though he knows he doesn’t deserve it, knows that Luna is being far more generous than he would be in her position.
“Thank you,” Matthias says quietly. “I won’t waste this opportunity. I promise.”
“Promises don’t mean much to me anymore,” Luna says, but there’s something softer in her expression, something that might be hope trying to survive underneath all the hurt. “Show me through actions, not words.”
“I will,” Matthias promises anyway, and then he takes the biggest risk of the conversation: “Can I see Sofia? Just for a few minutes? I won’t tell her I’m her father, won’t confuse her, just… I’d like to see her.”
Luna hesitates, and Matthias can see her weighing the request, considering whether she’s making a mistake—but eventually she steps back and opens the door wider, granting him entry.
“Five minutes,” Luna says. “She needs to get to daycare and I need to get to work.”
Sofia is in the living room building a tower with blocks, her tongue sticking out slightly in concentration as she carefully balances one block on top of another, and when she looks up and sees Matthias, her face breaks into a smile that makes his heart stutter.
“Hi!” Sofia says with the uncomplicated friendliness of a three-year-old who doesn’t know complicated adults make things. “Want to help my tower?”
“I’d love to,” Matthias says, his voice rough with emotion he’s trying to contain, and he sits down on the floor beside his daughter—his daughter—and helps her build the tallest block tower she’s ever made, knowing the whole time that this moment is temporary, fragile, a gift that Luna is giving him despite every reason she has not to.
When the five minutes are up and Luna gently tells Sofia it’s time to go, Matthias says goodbye to his daughter without revealing their connection, without claiming the title of “daddy” that he desperately wants but knows he hasn’t earned yet—and as he leaves their apartment, walking back down the stairs to his car, Matthias makes a promise to himself.
He’s going to be the father Sofia deserves.
He’s going to earn Luna’s trust.
He’s going to build a family through patience and presence, not through lawyers and legal warfare.
And he’s never going to make the mistake of choosing control over connection again.
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