C12 EVEN AT ZERO PERCENT

Leo is not my son.

Those five words were still hanging in the blue room long after Dr. Patel hung up.

"Mr. Knight, I'm sorry. You are not the father. I ran it three times. The match is 0%. Leo is not your biological son."

0%. Not 10%. Zero.

Alexander didn't move. He was still sitting in that tiny blue chair that was too small for him. The chair he always sat in to be at Leo's level to build Legos. His knuckles were white around his phone.

I watched his face. I watched the billionaire mask crack. His grey eyes — Leo's grey eyes — went empty. Like someone turned off a light inside him.

He didn't look at me. He looked at Leo.

Leo was on the floor in his dinosaur pajamas, holding Mr. Rex tight. He was four. He didn't understand percentages. He just knew Daddy looked sad.

"Daddy? You okay?" Leo said in his small voice and put his little hand on Alexander's expensive black shoe.

Daddy.

That one word Alexander waited five years to hear. The word he paid speech therapists a million dollars to hear when Leo was late to talk.

Alexander flinched like Leo had slapped him.

"Leo, baby, go to your room, okay? Mommy and Daddy need to talk," I whispered, but my voice was broken.

Leo didn't move. He looked at Alexander, then at me. "Daddy sad," he announced.

I broke.

Five years. For five years I watched this cold, ruthless billionaire get on the floor and play dinosaurs. I watched him learn to make dinosaur pancakes because Leo would only eat dinosaur pancakes. I watched him tell his own father, Richard Knight, that he would give up being CEO if his father didn't accept Leo as a Knight. I watched him rewrite his entire will so everything went to Leo.

And now one phone call erased it.

"You knew," Alexander said. It wasn't a question. His voice was so low, so hoarse, I almost didn't hear it. "How long did you know, Maya?"

"I found out at three months," I whispered. The words tasted like blood. "Before I met you. Before you offered to marry me. I was alone. I was waitressing. My mother had just died. You said you didn't care that I was pregnant. You said you wanted a family. I thought if I told you the truth you would leave. And Leo needed a father. And I... I needed you."

"You needed my money," he said coldly.

"No! I needed you!"

"Who is his father?" He turned around. His face was wet. Alexander Knight was crying. Silent tears running down his perfect face. "Who is his father, Maya? Tell me his name."

I couldn't. Because if I said the name, it would kill him all over again.

"Get out," he said. His voice was dead now. No tears. Just dead. "Take your son and get out of my house. Be out by morning. He cannot be a Knight anymore. My lawyers will contact you."

"He IS Leo Knight!" I screamed, standing up. "He has been Leo Knight for four years! You cannot erase four years because of a blood test!"

"I can and I will," he said and walked to the door.

He opened it.

Leo was standing right there.

He wasn't in his room. He was standing right outside the blue room in his little dinosaur pajamas, holding Mr. Rex, his face red from crying, listening to everything.

"Daddy? You don't want me no more?" he whispered.

Alexander froze. His hand on the door handle started shaking.

Leo took a small step forward. He held up his dinosaur. "Mr. Rex says sorry," Leo said. "Leo says sorry too."

For ten seconds, no one breathed. The only sound was the rain hitting the windows.

Alexander knelt down. Slowly. He was at Leo's level. He looked at the little boy who wasn't his son, but who had his laugh, his stubbornness, his love for blue.

"Leo," he said, his voice cracking into a thousand pieces. "I... I..."

He couldn't finish. He stood up abruptly and walked past Leo. Down the hall. The front door slammed. His car started, tires screaming in the rain. He was gone.

Leo started to wail. That heartbroken, confused wail of a child who doesn't understand why his father just left. I picked him up. He was so heavy now. Four years old, all legs and arms. He smelled like apple juice and Play-Doh.

"It's okay, baby. It's okay. Mommy's here," I lied into his hair.

But it wasn't okay. Because on the small blue table where Alexander left his phone, an envelope had fallen out of his jacket pocket when he stood up.

It was old. The paper was yellowed. From five years ago. Addressed to Dr. Patel. From the Mayo Clinic.

Patient: Alexander Knight. Diagnosis: Azoospermia 100% - Irreversible. Zero sperm count. Cannot father a child. Ever. Cause: Car accident at age 19.

He knew.

He had always known he could never be a father. From the very beginning. From before he met me.

He knew Leo wasn't his from the very first day I told him I was pregnant, and he chose to be his father anyway. He chose to give him his name. He chose to love him at 0%.

And I had just destroyed him for it.

My phone buzzed. A text from Alexander.

_If you ever loved me, don't let him call me Daddy again. It hurts too much._

Then a second text. A photo. It was a photo of Leo on his shoulders at the park yesterday, both laughing so hard. Leo's grey eyes squinting exactly like Alexander's grey eyes.

Under it, Alexander had written:

_Tell him I had to go away for work. Tell him I love him. Even at 0%._

I started sobbing so hard I almost dropped Leo.

Downstairs, the front door opened again. But it wasn't Alexander's car.

It was a black SUV I knew too well. The one I hadn't seen in five years.

My brother's SUV.

My older brother Jake. The one who left the country after our mother died. The one who is Leo's real biological father. The one Alexander hated more than anyone.

And Leo, in my arms, stopped crying and whispered, "Mommy, Uncle Jake is here."

I froze. The front door was opening.