Chapter 10 - Diane Wanted Lily to Feel Rejected Before the Screen Could Make Her Feel Secure
Diane admitted it in mediation.
Not immediately.
At first she said Lily had been:
disrespectful.
She claimed the water was meant to be “a lesson.”
No.
Then her attorney pushed for:
specificity.
Why tell Lily she was not Robert’s blood when Diane had already seen the test proving:
otherwise?
Diane stared at the table.
Finally:
“Because I knew what was about to happen.”
There.
She had opened the DNA result hours earlier.
She knew Robert matched:
Claire.
She knew Claire matched:
Lily.
She knew Ethan did not match:
Robert.
Then she spent the next ninety minutes waiting for the family display to:
update.
She tried to remove Ethan’s profile.
Failed.
She considered leaving:
the party.
Didn’t.
Why?
“If I left, Robert would know something was wrong.”
Then Lily approached the patio table and asked whether Grandpa would show the family tree after:
cake.
Diane panicked.
She saw Lily excited about:
belonging.
So she attacked exactly:
that.
“You wanted her hurt before she saw the result?”
Diane started crying.
“I wanted Claire to stop acting like she had won.”
I stared.
“There was nothing to win.”
“To you.”
There.
Diane had turned family legitimacy into a scoreboard.
Then she admitted something worse.
She never genuinely believed:
I wasn’t Dad’s daughter.
Not after the first few years.
The fake letter was not a belief.
It was a:
tool.
“Why continue?”
“Because Robert became more careful around you.”
There.
Doubt created:
distance.
Dad still loved me.
Still visited.
Still helped.
But he became less likely to challenge Diane when she said I was:
demanding,
entitled,
too involved.
The fake paternity question made every disagreement look like it might contain hidden resentment from:
me.
Then:
“Why did you need distance between us?”
Diane answered:
“Because the closer Robert was to Claire, the more terrified I was he would notice Ethan didn’t look like him.”
That sounded irrational.
It probably:
was.
Ethan had Dad’s mannerisms because Dad raised:
him.
People constantly said they looked alike anyway.
Fear does not need:
good evidence.
Then Diane said:
“Claire looked like Julia. Lily looked like Claire. Every time Robert looked at those two, I saw a line I couldn’t fake.”
There.
Claire to Lily.
Visible resemblance.
Continuity.
Ethan represented:
uncertainty.
Then:
“You could have told Dad.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Because I thought he would leave.”
“Would he?”
Dad answered from across the table.
“If you had told me when Ethan was five?”
Long pause.
“I don’t know what would have happened to our marriage.”
Honest.
Then:
“But Ethan would still have been my son.”
Diane cried harder.
“That’s easy to say now.”
Maybe.
But her decisions had taken the choice away from:
everyone.
Then the mediator asked the most important question.
“Was your treatment of Claire and Lily necessary to protect Ethan’s legal or financial status?”
“No.”
Because by then the lawyers had already established:
the answer.
Dad’s estate named Ethan.
His legal parentage history was:
secure.
The family trust used named beneficiaries, not genetic tests.
Diane had not needed to hurt anyone to protect:
him.
Then she whispered:
“I know.”
There.
At last, explanation separated from:
excuse.
Then came a final reveal.
Diane had taken another private paternity test just six months before Lily’s birthday.
Not because she doubted the old one.
Because she was considering finally telling:
Dad.
The second result again excluded Robert.
Why didn’t she confess?
The laboratory envelope contained a handwritten note from Diane to herself.
If I tell him now, Claire becomes the only child who is truly his. I cannot survive that.
Not:
Ethan cannot survive.
I.
May you like
That sentence ended the last version of her story where everything had been done for her son.
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