One Fateful Night (ON GOING)

Chapter 3

Mew sees how the old man merely stares at him and later raises a brow which is a cue for him to continue.

Damn, just like my old man, Mew thinks and clears his throat.

“As I was saying, I slept with a woman although I don’t know who she is,” Mew continues.

“But scientifically speaking, if indeed I slept with your son, I don’t think anal laceration would leave that much trace of blood, which I’m sure is from a pure woman. I don’t really remember most of it, but I woke up alone on the bed after that night and honestly the only reminder that I slept with a woman was the blood on the bed,” Mew explains.

Mew doesn’t want to give details but being accused of something utterly ridiculous will never sit well with him.

The old man heaves a deep breath and Mew observes how the well known tycoon suddenly looked tired as he squeezes his eyes shut. And of all things, such gestures actually gives Mew the chills, like a confirmation of something.

“Are you okay, Mr. Traipipattanapong?”

The old man nods as he opens his eyes. He hands a flash drive to Mew.

“Can we watch this?”

Mew gulps. The familiar pounding in his chest is something he can never deny. Something is about to be unfolded and he doesn’t know if he wants to know what it is.

Soullessly, Mew reaches the material and he plugs it on his TV.

The video is a CCTV footage of a hotel hallway which is familiar to Mew since he was there on that night.

After few seconds, Mew sees a young man staggering and eventually that man opens a room then gone in the frame. Moments later, he sees another figure, unsteady as well, which he recognized as himself, from head to toe: the figure is him.

Mew sees himself on the screen as he stumbles from time to time and suddenly he wants to drag himself out from that screen and punch the man on the gut. Few seconds more, the figure finally stumbles on a door which opened in that instant; obviously not locked and not even closed.

Do not go inside, you motherfucker!  Mew is shouting in his head but the Mew on the screen—too intoxicated to care and clearly cannot hear to his plea—goes into the room and closed it.

Then, the frame shows an empty hallway again and the video ended.

“I’m sure you have doubts and questions or even accusations,” Xander says. “I’m here for that and to make a deal.”

This time, Mew has his forehead creased. “But a son…? And how sure are you?”

The old man sighs. He already predicted how things will go, because if he is in the young man’s shoe he surely would have the same reaction.

“I have everything investigated, Mr. Jongcheveevat,” Xander assures the confused man.

“Clearly, I won’t come here with baseless accusations. I’m a busy man and not fond of pointing fingers and certainly, not interested with who you sleep with. But this time…” Xander hands the DNA result to the young Jongcheveevat. “…it involves my son who is carrying your child.”

Mew holds the paper with shaking hands and indeed, the piece of paper shows the relativity of the subjects.

“I had my son undergone a noninvasive prenatal paternity test, and of course I hired some man to get your DNA as well, which confirms on that paper that you are the father.”