The Mafia Lord's Secret Lover-Chapter 445: Who Is His Father?

Harper’s hand trembled as she stared at the email on her phone.

The subject line alone made her heart pound violently; she could feel her chest quickly expanding and contracting.

[The identity of your son’s biological father.]

Her fingers hovered above the screen, but she could not bring herself to open it right away.

"What’s this...?" she whispered under her breath.

Her throat felt dry. For a moment, she stood by the bed, breathing slowly, trying to steady the sudden storm inside her chest.

Something about the email felt wrong. Dangerous. As if opening it would shatter something she had carefully built for years.

Harper instinctively turned her head toward the bed.

Her son lay there quietly, wrapped in the hospital blanket. His small chest rose and fell slowly as he slept, his pale face relaxed in peaceful exhaustion.

Seeing that he had finally fallen asleep brought her a small sense of relief.

Good. She did not want her son to see her like this again.

Quickly, Harper sat down on the stool beside the bed, lowering the brightness of her phone screen before finally opening the email.

The moment the contents loaded, her eyes widened.

Inside were several attachments.

A copy of a message exchange.

A short CCTV video clip.

A record of a bank transfer.

And several documents that looked frighteningly familiar.

Harper’s breathing stopped.

’No! No... this can’t be...’

Her fingers moved stiffly as she opened the first file.

It was a screenshot of a conversation. The words were clear. Too clear. They described arrangements, payments, and instructions related to that night years ago.

The night of the New Year’s banquet.

The night she had planned everything.

Her chest tightened painfully.

Her fingers trembled harder as she opened the CCTV clip.

The short footage showed the hallway of the hotel floor, and there she was, walking down the corridor.

Her eyes moved quickly across the screen, following the moment her past self stopped in front of a door.

Her breath caught in her throat.

The room number.

Her hand flew to her mouth as she tried to stop herself from screaming.

"Wait... wait..."

Her voice barely escaped her lips.

"That’s not..."

Her mind suddenly went blank.

"That’s not Axel’s presidential suite..."

Her entire body went cold.

She quickly opened another image attached to the email. This one was a still frame from another CCTV angle.

Again, the room number was visible.

And it was not Axel Knight’s room.

Harper’s hand began shaking so badly that she almost dropped the phone.

Now she understood the meaning of the email title.

Now she understood why Axel was so confident when he denied her claim.

Because she had never entered his room that night.

Because the man she slept with...

Was someone else?

A sharp pain shot through her head.

"God... why... why become like this?" she whispered hoarsely.

Her fingers dug into her temple as she tried to force her memory to work.

That night... The wine. The dizziness that struck her. The strange warmth was spreading through her body.

She assumed everything was going according to her plan. She believed she had successfully entered Axel Knight’s room and was finally having sex as his personal assistant had arranged.

But now—

"Damn it..." she whispered through clenched teeth. Her head throbbed harder. "Why did I drink that wine...? How could I ruin my own plan? Why? Ugh, wait, how could I get this room card key?"

Once again, fragments of memory flickered in her mind. The banquet hall. The crowded ballroom. The glass in her hand.

Her vision is becoming slightly blurry.

"You’re such an idiot, Harper..." she muttered bitterly to herself. "So stupid..."

Her nails pressed into her palm as anger and panic flooded her chest.

She had carefully arranged everything that night. The plan was flawless in her mind.

Drug Axel. Spend the night with him without taking a pill and get pregnant.

Tie herself permanently to one of the most powerful and wealthy men in the city.

But the evidence in the email was merciless. She never entered Axel’s room.

Which meant her son was not Axel Knight’s child.

Harper lowered her head as tears began forming in her eyes.

She had already told the world that Axel was Dawson’s father. The media believed her. The internet supported her.

But these files... These terrifying pieces of proof... destroy everything.

Her shoulders began to tremble. Tears slid down her cheeks silently.

She cried without making a sound, afraid of waking her son, who was peacefully sleeping.

Minutes passed before the storm inside her chest slowly calmed.

Her breathing gradually steadied. Her mind, though still shaken, began to think again.

But then another realization struck her. A colder one.

If Axel was not Dawson’s father...

Then who was the father of my son?

Her fingers tightened around the phone again.

Her gaze slowly drifted back to the attachments in the email.

Someone knew the truth.

Someone had collected all of this evidence.

And that meant one thing.

Whoever sent this email probably knew exactly whose room she had entered that night.

Harper’s eyes darkened slightly as fear returned to her chest.

"Who...?" she whispered. Her voice was barely audible. "Who is Dawson’s father...?"

The question lingered in Harper’s mind like a faint echo.

But the question drifted past her ears like the wind. There was no answer she wanted—only silence.

Harper lowered her head slightly, staring at the sleeping child on the bed. His small face looked peaceful, completely unaware of the storm raging inside his mother’s heart.

Her fingers tightened around the phone.

So many thoughts were crashing through her mind that it felt impossible to focus on just one. Fear. Regret. Anger. Confusion. They twisted together until her head began to ache.

Just then—

Her phone vibrated.

The sudden buzz broke the heavy silence of the room.

Harper frowned slightly and looked down at the screen. Normally, she would have ignored a message from an unknown number. Most of the time, those were just advertisements or useless spam.

But now it is different. Her nerves were already stretched thin, and curiosity got the better of her.

She opened the message.

The moment her eyes landed on the text, her entire body stiffened. Cold sweat drenched her forehead.

"Ms. Harper Cooper, my name is Joseph. We need to meet. It’s about your son."

For a long moment, Harper simply stared at the screen.

Her brows slowly knitted together.

"Joseph...?" she whispered under her breath.

The name felt strange.

Her mind searched quickly through her memories, but nothing came up.

’Joseph? Does he know about my son? Who is he? Why do I not remember having a friend named Joseph?’

Her heart began beating faster again.

If this person knew something about Dawson, then perhaps... he knew the truth.

Harper bit her lower lip as hesitation crept into her thoughts.

What if this was a trap?

What if the person behind the message meant her harm?

But the fear lasted only a few seconds before desperation pushed it away.

Right now, she had no other choice.

She needed answers.

Without thinking any further, Harper quickly typed a reply.

"Yes. I’m in Lincoln Hospital. Pediatric ward, 5th floor. Call me when you arrive."

Her finger hovered above the send button for a brief moment.

Then she pressed it.

The message disappeared from the screen as it was sent.

Harper slowly lowered the phone to her lap and released a long breath she did not realize she had been holding.

Now there was nothing left for her to do except wait.

Her eyes drifted back to the small figure sleeping on the bed.

Harper reached out and gently adjusted the blanket over her son’s shoulder.

Her expression softened, though worry still lingered in her gaze.

"Dawson..." she murmured quietly.

Now Harper Cooper could only hope that this mysterious Joseph could tell her the one answer she longed for and desperately needed.

The identity of Dawson’s father.