Olivia, thirty eight and visibly six months pregnant, pressed a silk handkerchief to the corner of her eye as if fighting back tears. She wore a tailored maternity gown that emphasized her rounded belly, and her attorney leaned close to whisper congratulations while she lowered her gaze to hide a flicker of victory.
Franklin felt his throat tighten as memories flooded his mind, because he and Olivia had spent twenty years married and countless nights in sterile clinics hearing doctors tell him that he was the reason they could not conceive. He had believed he was flawed and had paid for endless treatments while she wept in his arms and reassured him that they would keep trying.
Now, as their marriage had crumbled into a bitter divorce, she had suddenly announced a pregnancy that the court had accepted as legitimate within the marriage. His attorney, Harold Greene, had begged the judge to allow a DNA test, but the request had been dismissed as a cruel attempt to delay support for a pregnant woman.
“This is unjust,” Harold said again, his voice strained as he rose from his chair. “My client deserves confirmation of paternity before he is financially destroyed.”