chapter1106

Lincoln cleared his throat and nodded. "Okay." After he stepped into the room, he pushed the window open as far as it would go, letting the air circulate. Only then did Juna and Lydia come inside. Mr. Lowe and Marian were both out cold, sleeping deeply from the medication.

Lydia moved to Mr. Lowe's side and gently took his wrist to check his pulse. It was just as strong as before, surprisingly healthy for someone his age. His pulse told her he was in perfect shape, not a trace of sickness anywhere.

She glanced up at Lincoln. "Has your grandfather ever had any big illnesses? Or serious injuries?"

Lincoln paused, thinking back. "I remember my parents saying that, when he was young, he took a knife to the lower back while saving someone. He should have a scar from it."

He carefully rolled the old man onto his side. Sure enough, there was a scar on his lower back.

"There's a scar... so is he actually my grandpa?" Lincoln's mind was spinning. Was it really him?

Lydia studied the scar, her brow furrowed. "When did your grandfather get that injury?"

Lincoln tried to recall. "All I know is what my parents told me. It happened decades ago."

"Nothing more recent?"

He shook his head. "Not that I know of."

Lydia's tone was certain. He's not your grandfather.

Lincoln stared at her, stunned. "What?"

Juna frowned. "But the DNA test said they're related, right?" She hesitated, then added, "Could someone have tampered with the test results?"

It wasn't impossible. If someone bribed the hospital staff, the results could be changed.

Lincoln shook his head. "No way. The person my parents used is totally trustworthy."

Juna looked at Lydia, still confused. "Then why isn't he his grandfather?"

Lydia pointed at the scar. "A fresh knife wound scar is usually red or pink because new blood vessels and tissue are forming. But a scar from twentythirty years ago would have faded by now, blending in with the rest of the skin, maybe even looking gray or white. The scar on him is real, but there's no way it's decades old."

Lincoln didn't know anything about medicine, but it made sense the way Lydia explained it. He felt a wave of panic. "Then what's going on? He looks exactly like my grandpa. The test results matched..."

Lydia frowned and checked behind Mr. Lowe's ear. The skin felt perfectly real.

Then she noticed something about his wrist. Most people take off their watches before going to bed, but Mr. Lowe still had his on. She remembered the last time she tried to check his pulse, he said the watch was in the way and stubbornly

refused to take it off.

Lydia slipped the watch from his wrist.

Juna, curious, leaned over to see. "Is there something wrong with the watch?" She picked it up, turning it in her hands.

Lydia kept her focus on Mr. Lowe's

wrist. The skin where the watch had been looked a little off, a different shade from the rest. She ran her finger over it, then pulled a small bottle from her bag and dabbed some special solution onto the spot.

Lincoln and Juna watched, puzzled, not sure what Lydia was up to. Then, right before their eyes, Lydia scraped at the skin with her fingernail. She peeled back a thin layer, revealing what was underneath.