Only threw a cold order over his shoulder: "Watch this crazy woman and her bastard! They don't leave until the results are in!"
The room emptied in a rush.
I stood there, watching his frantic retreat.
It was the same five years ago.
If Evelyn frowned, the world had to stop.
Even when I was bleeding out in the delivery room.
I pulled a crumpled old newspaper from my bag. It featured a photo of Liam in the hospital, tearing my ultrasound scan to pieces.
I crushed the paper into a ball and tossed it into the trash.
Then I dialed an encrypted number.
"Hello."
"The asset is recoverable."
Three days later. The seaside docks.
The wind was bleak, cutting through fabric straight to the bone.
Liam's car was parked near the water's edge. He stood in the wind, clutching the unopened paternity test in one hand.
Evelyn huddled beside him, wrapped in his cashmere coat. Her complexion was rosy—not a trace of her recent "heart attack."
I led the child forward, but a bodyguard blocked our path.
Liam shook the manila envelope, smile sinister. "You want this?"
He pointed to the dark, churning water at his feet.
"Evelyn accidentally dropped her heirloom ring. It's a Farley family treasure—it can't be lost."