Robert gave a small nod, like she had just confirmed something routine. Then he tapped his phone again and turned on the mounted dining room television.
“What are you doing?” Diane asked.
“Finishing this,” he replied.
The screen flickered to life, showing black-and-white footage from the sunroom security camera. The timestamp read forty-three minutes earlier, before dinner had begun. Claire stood near the windows with Diane. Their voices came through clearly.
Claire said, “Once I say Sophie isn’t his, Elena will break. Robert always takes the high road, so he’ll probably just leave with her. That’s better than Dad changing the trust tomorrow.”
Diane’s voice followed, unsteady but unmistakable. “And the lab report?”
“I made it look real. He won’t know the difference in the middle of dinner.”
My heart stopped.
My father-in-law jerked his head toward the screen. “What lab report?”
Claire’s face drained. “That’s not—”
Robert lifted a hand, silencing her. Then he placed a manila folder on the table in front of his father.
“The real report is in there,” he said. “Court-certified paternity results. I took the test six weeks ago after Claire mailed an anonymous copy of her fake one to my office.”
I stared at him.
He finally met my eyes, his voice softening. “I never doubted you. I needed proof before I exposed them.”
No one moved.
Then the doorbell rang.
Robert checked his phone. “Good,” he said. “My attorney is here.”
And that was the moment Claire and Diane realized the dinner table was no longer their stage.
It had become their downfall.
The silence after Robert spoke felt heavier than the accusation.
Claire broke first. “You called a lawyer? To your parents’ house? Are you insane?”
Robert stayed at the head of the table, one hand resting on the back of his chair. “No. I’m prepared.”
