I opened the envelope with trembling fingers. The paper carried the logo of a prestigious private laboratory. My name. Scott’s name. Toby’s name. Then the devastating line:
**Probability of paternity: 0%.**
Toby stirred against me, sensing the sudden tension. I held him tighter, my knees nearly buckling.
“No,” I whispered. “This can’t be right. There’s been a mistake.”
Paige let out a bitter laugh. “That’s exactly what cheaters say when they get caught.”
I stared at her, betrayal burning through me. “You knew about this ambush?”
“Not just her,” Adelaide said smoothly, rising to her feet in her elegant cream pantsuit. “Everyone here deserved to know what kind of woman my son married.”
My eyes burned with hot tears, but I refused to let them fall. Not here. Not in front of these people who had smiled at my wedding and cooed over Toby’s birth.
Three hours earlier, Scott had called while I was giving Toby a bath. “Come by my parents’ house early. Mom wants us all together for dinner.” He had sounded off, but I was too tired to press him. Now I understood. This wasn’t a dinner. It was an execution.
“This is wrong,” I said, my voice cracking as I gripped the paper. “Toby is Scott’s son. I have never been with anyone else.”
Adelaide’s eyes narrowed. “My son is not going to spend his life raising another man’s child. Take off that ring, Olivia. Leave with your bastard and don’t ever come back to this family.”
