“I’m tired of pretending,” Evelyn said, her voice sharp. “This farce has gone on long enough.”
She reached into her bag and pulled out a folded sheet of paper.
Jessica’s stomach dropped. She couldn’t speak. Her mind raced as Evelyn turned the paper to face the group, dramatically pointing at the results.
“Willa is not James’s child,” she announced. “And I have proof.”
The room fell silent. Forks froze mid-air. No one moved. No one breathed.
Except for Joan—Jessica’s mother—who sat calmly, hands folded, eyes steady.
Without flinching, Joan spoke.
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