Chapter 2 - THE BABY HE WASN’T SUPPOSED TO SEE
Julian rose from the newlyweds’ table after security reluctantly allowed me into the ballroom.
He did not defend me.
At first.
He looked at the wine dripping from my hair.
Then laughed.
“Still begging for scraps from a man who dumped you?”
The words landed exactly where he intended.
Old wound.
Old shame.
But I had changed.
I wiped my cheek with one hand while keeping Lily secure.
My voice stayed calm.
“You really think I came here for you?”
Fiona stepped closer.
Pointed at Lily.
“Take that bastard and crawl back wherever you came from.”
The laughter around the table died.
I looked directly at her.
“Careful.”
She sneered.
“You threatening me?”
“No.”
I shifted Lily slightly so Julian could see her face.
“You’re insulting your husband’s daughter.”
Fiona froze.
Julian’s expression collapsed.
“What the hell did you just say?”
I said nothing.
He stepped closer.
For the first time, he really looked at Lily.
Her nose.
Her mouth.
The tiny crease above her chin.
His family traits.
Fiona grabbed his jacket and jerked him back.
He pulled free.
“She’s lying!” Fiona shouted. “Tell me she’s fucking lying!”
Julian could not answer.
I stepped toward him.
Red wine still running down my dress.
“You threw me away because you thought I couldn’t give you a child.”
His face tightened.
“That’s not fair.”
“No?”
“You know what the doctors said.”
“I know what we were told.”
Fiona stopped breathing.
I watched her.
Then looked at Julian.
“Now ask your bride what else she lied about.”
He turned toward Fiona.
“What does she mean?”
“Nothing.”
Her answer came too fast.
Julian stared.
“Fiona.”
“She’s trying to ruin the wedding.”
I reached into my handbag.
Pulled out the scanned fertility report.
Julian recognized the letterhead.
His face changed.
“Where did you get that?”
“Someone sent it to me.”
He read the highlighted line.
PARTNER SAMPLE.
His hands shook.
“That’s not possible.”
“Apparently it is.”
Fiona said:
“It’s fake.”
I looked at her.
“You knew it existed before you called it fake.”
Silence.
Then Julian asked the question that mattered.
“Is Lily mine?”
I looked down at my daughter.
Then at him.
“She might be.”
“Might?”
“I did not test her without your knowledge.”
Fiona laughed.
“Convenient.”
I turned.
“And yet you knew enough to intercept my letter.”
Her face went white.
Julian looked at her.
“What letter?”
The ballroom shifted.
Guests stopped pretending not to listen.
I pulled out a photocopy of the certified mail receipt.
Sent three months before Lily was born.
Addressed to Julian.
Returned.
REFUSED.
Julian stared.
“I never saw this.”
“I know.”
Fiona said:
“You were separated.”
“That is not your answer.”
Julian stepped toward her.
“Did you refuse this?”
“No.”
Then a man near the bar stood.
Older.
Gray suit.
I recognized him.
Dr. Samuel Hart.
Our fertility specialist.
My body went cold.
He had not been invited to our wedding years earlier.
Why was he at Julian’s?
Julian saw him.
“Dr. Hart?”
Fiona turned.
Panic.
Then the doctor said:
“Julian, before you accuse anyone, you should know the report Elena is holding is authentic.”
The ballroom went silent.
Fiona whispered:
“Sam.”
Not Doctor Hart.
May you like
Sam.
That was when I realized the lie was older and closer than I had imagined.
