The Truth Written in Black and White**
Aria didn't breathe for a full three seconds.
Her eyes darted between the sleeping baby on her couch and the crisp white envelope trembling in her hand. It felt heavier than paper—like truth itself had weight, like secrets could press against her bones. She slid her thumb beneath the flap and slowly lifted the seal, half-expecting something to explode from it. But only silence greeted her. Silence and the gentle rise and fall of the baby's chest.
"Okay… here goes," she whispered, seating herself gingerly beside the child.
The envelope held several sheets—clinical in appearance, sharp-edged, sterile. They smelled faintly of printer ink and cold determination. The first page was typed in bold letters:
PATERNITY & MATERNITY DNA ANALYSIS REPORT
Her heartbeat scattered.
Maternity?
Why would there even be—
Aria flipped to the second page and froze as her name leapt out at her in black ink:
BIOLOGICAL MOTHER: ARIA STERLING — 99.9998% MATCH
Her pulse stuttered. She blinked hard, thinking her vision blurred.
"No. No… this—this has to be a mistake."
Her voice cracked. She hadn't been pregnant. She hadn't had a baby. She hadn't even been with anyone. So how—?
Her stomach twisted violently, yet the room stayed painfully calm. Snowflakes tapped gently against the windows, the heater hummed, and the baby slept peacefully as if the universe wasn't rearranging itself around her.
Hands shaking, Aria flipped to the next page.
Graphs. Genetic markers. Alleles. Data.
All pointing to one impossible conclusion.
She was the mother.
Her.
Aria Sterling—school librarian, responsible daughter, unlucky-in-love Christmas romantic—had somehow given birth without ever being pregnant. Her knees weakened, and she sank deeper into the couch.
"This can't be real…" she whispered.
But the document felt real.
The baby's warm little fist curled around the edge of her sweater felt real.
The way he had reached for her earlier—as if he knew her—felt too real.
A thick lump formed in her throat. Was someone sick enough to forge medical documents? Could DNA reports even be faked? And why target her? Why deliver a child to her doorstep of all places?
The baby stirred and let out a soft, drowsy coo—almost a sigh—before drifting back into sleep. His eyelids fluttered, and she caught a quick glimpse of his irises, stormy gray with flecks of gold.
Her chest tightened.
Eyes she had only ever seen once before.
Eyes from a dream.
The dream of the shadowed man calling her name.
A chill crept up her spine, wrapping itself around her neck. "No. That's impossible. Dreams don't…" She cut herself off before she said it out loud.
Dreams don't leave babies on doorsteps.
The next document was tucked behind a yellow sticky note. Her name was scrawled across it in hurried writing.
Aria,You're the only one who can protect him.Don't trust anyone—not even family.I'm sorry.—D
Her fingers tightened around the note. D? Who was D? Someone she knew? Someone who knew her? The handwriting looked rushed, messy, almost frantic, as if the writer hadn't had time to be neat—or as if they'd been afraid.
A knot formed in her stomach.
The only one who can protect him.
From what?
She turned to the back page, hoping for more answers, but all it contained was a section titled:
BIOLOGICAL FATHER: CLASSIFIED — REDACTED BY AUTHORITY ORDER
Every line below was blacked out.
Every name.
Every number.
Every reference.
Every clue.
Her jaw dropped. "Authority order? What authority?" Government? Military? Medical? A private agency? Who had the power to redact DNA information like this?
A sudden, forceful knock at her door made her jump violently.
The baby woke and whimpered, startled by the sound.
The knock came again—louder this time.
Her breath caught in her throat.
She wasn't expecting anyone. It was barely past sunrise. Her family didn't show up unannounced. Delivery services never came this early. And the doorbell earlier… whoever had rung it hadn't stayed.
Someone had left the baby.
Someone had come back.
But why knock now?
Her feet felt glued to the floor as she froze. The knock echoed again, this time with a firm edge that made the walls seem thinner and the house colder.
"Aria Sterling," a voice called through the door.
She went rigid. She didn't recognize it.
This wasn't a neighbor. Not a family member. Not a friend.
"We need to speak with you," the voice continued, calm but authoritative.
Her pulse thudded loudly in her ears.
How did they know her name?
The baby whimpered louder and reached up toward her with trembling little hands—seeking comfort, seeking her. Something instinctive and primal rose inside her, shocking her with its intensity. She scooped him into her arms, heart racing.
Another knock—sharp and impatient.
"Ms. Sterling, open the door. It's urgent."
Urgent.
That word rarely meant anything good.
Her brain spun. Should she hide? Should she run? Should she pretend she wasn't home? She glanced at the window, wondering if she could slip out through the back door. But the snow outside was thick, and footprints would be too obvious.
Her phone buzzed suddenly.
She nearly dropped it from the jolt of fear.
A text from an unknown number appeared on her screen:
Do NOT open the door.Keep the baby away from them.Trust me.
Her blood ran cold.
She typed frantically:
Who are you?? What do you want??
The reply was instant, as if the sender were watching her.
I'm the one who left him with you.And I'm the only reason you're still alive.Take him and hide.NOW.
Her stomach dropped. The walls felt like they were closing in.
The knocking grew harsher.
"Aria Sterling, this is your last warning."
The baby clung to her shirt, now fully awake and scared.
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
She turned toward the back hallway, clutching the child protectively as adrenaline surged through her veins.
Outside, the snow fell softly, peacefully—mocking the storm inside her.
She didn't know who was at her door.
She didn't know who texted her.
She didn't know why this baby existed—or why his father's identity was blacked out like a classified military operation.
But she did know one thing.
The danger was real.
And it was already at her doorstep.
Aria took a shaky breath, tightened her hold on the baby, and ran toward the back of the house—
When suddenly—
The front doorknob began to twist.
To be continued…