Desperate for answers, Julian had managed to secure a legal DNA test using a prenatal sample Chloe had processed through a private concierge clinic under a different pretext, matching it against his own profile. He sent the results to me because he couldn’t bear the guilt anymore.
I looked down at the lab paperwork.
The documentation was bulletproof. Not only did the DNA profile show a 99.9% paternity match to Julian, but the background medical history included a copy of David’s old juvenile medical records that Julian had unearthed—proving David had undergone a botched surgery as a child that left him completely, permanently sterile. He was physically incapable of fathering children.
I stared at the pink ink on Chloe’s invitation, and then at the paternity test. A slow, cold smile spread across my face. A laugh escaped my lips, echoing through the quiet house. “I’ll be there,” I whispered to the empty room.
Chloe wanted a spectacle, and I was going to give her one. She had no idea what my registry gift was going to be.
The day of the shower arrived. It was hosted at an exclusive country club, decorated entirely in cascading white, blue, and pink roses. David’s entire family was there—his fiercely traditional parents, his aunts, his cousins, and of course, David himself, looking prouder than he ever had in his life. He was beaming, rubbing Chloe’s back as she sat on a faux-velvet throne, surrounded by mountains of beautifully wrapped presents.
When I walked through the door, the entire room fell dead silent. I could see the color instantly drain from Chloe’s face. David stood up, his jaw clenched, stepping forward to intercept me.
“What are you doing here?” David hissed under his breath, looking around nervously at his parents. “Who invited you?”
“Chloe did,” I said smoothly, holding up the cream envelope with a pleasant smile. “I wouldn’t miss celebrating your little miracle for the world, David.”
Chloe quickly recovered her composure, a smug, triumphant smirk returning to her lips as she realized everyone was watching. “It’s fine, David,” she said loudly, her voice dripping with false magnanimity. “Let her stay. I’m glad she can finally see how happy we are. Sit down, please! We’re just about to open gifts.”
I took a seat near the back, holding a large, beautifully wrapped silver box on my lap. I watched patiently as Chloe opened silver rattles, designer strollers, and monogrammed baby blankets. David stood beside her the entire time, kissing her forehead, playing the part of the ecstatic, doting father. Julian was sitting across the room, staring intently at the floor, sweating profusely. He knew I had the test, but he didn’t know what I was going to do with it.
Finally, it was time for my gift.
“Oh, look everyone, this one is from my old friend,” Chloe announced to the room, her voice laced with thinly veiled condescension. She pulled my silver box toward her. “Let’s see what she brought us.”
