Keith Dawson sighed as he pushed his father’s wheelchair. “My health is failing. If you really care, hurry up and give me a grandson,” his father said dramatically. Keith rolled his eyes. “Look at you. You can’t even get a girlfriend. How are we supposed to have an heir?” his father teased.

“Dad, I’ve told you a thousand times, this can’t be rushed,” Keith muttered, clearly frustrated.

Suddenly, a five-year-old boy bumped into the wheelchair. Keith’s father quickly grabbed the boy’s arm. “Careful, little one,” he said, his expression puzzled as he looked at the boy’s face, which reminded him of Keith when he was young. His father then took a lock of the boy’s hair before the child ran off. “Come here,” he said to Keith, motioning for him to lean down.

Keith, still confused, complied as his father took a piece of his hair. “Notify all the doctors at the hospital immediately. Have them run a DNA test,” he ordered his men.

Keith shook his head, disbelief in his voice. “You think this random kid is mine? Are you out of your mind?”

“Let’s just wait for the report,” his father replied, a mischievous smile on his face.

When the report finally came in, Keith froze. The boy really was his son. His father beamed with joy. “Finally, I have a grandson!” he declared. “Go find his mother and bring them both to me immediately!”

Keith remained motionless, his mind racing. Six years ago, there had been a one-night stand. You had left without a word, and he had never seen you again. Could the boy really be his? The thought haunted him as he prepared to face the unexpected reality.