Victoria’s fingers trembled as she picked up the envelope.
“This proves nothing,” she said, but her voice lacked conviction.
“Then you have nothing to be afraid of,” I replied softly.
My smile widened just slightly.
“Unless you already know what’s inside. Unless you’ve spent the last three months wondering when I would find out about your plan.”
The color drained from her face.
“What plan?”
“Open it, Victoria.”
Her hands shook as she broke the seal. The sound of paper tearing seemed unnaturally loud in the stillness of the ballroom. She pulled out the contents slowly. Several pages. Official documents. Photographs. And as her eyes moved across the first page, her expression changed.
Red.
Then pale.
Then something closer to gray.
Her lips parted, but no sound came out at first.
Then finally, a whisper.
“What is this?”
I tilted my head slightly.
“Why don’t you read it out loud?” I said, my tone calm, almost pleasant. “You seemed very comfortable sharing your version of events. Go ahead. Share this one too.”
Logan suddenly lunged forward.
“Mom, don’t.”
But Richard was faster. He stepped in, pulling the papers from Victoria’s unsteady grip before Logan could reach them. His eyes scanned the first page, and something in his face hardened.
“DNA paternity test results,” he read aloud.
The room leaned in.
“Alleged father: Logan Carile. Child: Arya Carile. Probability of paternity—”
He stopped.
His voice cracked slightly as he finished.
“99.99%.”
A wave of gasps rippled through the room.
Megan let out a small clap before quickly stopping herself.
Logan’s face went completely pale.
“That’s fake,” Chloe said quickly, her voice unsteady. “It has to be.”
“Page two,” I said calmly.
Richard turned the page.
“Certification from Massachusetts General Hospital. Chain of custody documentation. Video-verified sample collection.”
I folded my arms loosely.
“There’s also a timestamped recording of Logan providing his sample,” I added. “He believed it was part of a routine medical screening form for a life insurance application he never completed. He signed it without reading.”
Richard kept reading, his voice tightening with anger.
“What is this?” he said, flipping another page. “Screenshots of text messages.”
His eyes lifted toward Victoria.
“You wrote: $750,000 upon divorce finalization.”
The room erupted. Chairs scraped loudly across the floor. Voices overlapped, shocked, confused, angry.
“You tried to buy your son’s divorce?” Evelyn Carter said, her voice filled with disbelief.
“And I wasn’t done yet,” I said evenly. “Keep going. Page four is where it gets interesting.”
Victoria tried to stand.
Her legs gave out beneath her.
She collapsed back into her chair, shaking.
Richard lifted the DNA report slightly, the official seal catching the chandelier light.
“Laboratory director: Dr. Hannah Brooks,” he read. “This is one of the most respected genetic specialists in the country.”
“It’s fake,” Logan snapped, his face flushed red. “Skyler must have—”
“Must have what?” I asked, my voice calm, almost curious. I stepped a little closer. “Forged a document from Massachusetts General? Replicated Dr. Brooks’s signature? Fabricated a full video record of you providing a DNA sample three months ago?”
