One week after Adam’s burial, Lucas’s first birthday arrived. “Adam would want you to go,” my mother insisted. So, with heavy heart, I drove to Cassandra’s rental house. The party felt tense. Guests whispered, my parents looked uncomfortable. Cassandra, glowing in a new dress, seemed almost giddy.
“Thank you all for coming,” she began, then paused dramatically. “I have been keeping a secret. Lucas is not Tyler’s son. He is Adam’s.”
The world seemed to stop. Gasps echoed. “Bridget’s husband and I had a brief affair two years ago,” Cassandra continued, her voice rehearsed. “It was a mistake, a moment of weakness.” She then produced a folded document. “Adam updated his will. He wanted his son to be provided for. This will states that half of our house should go to Lucas.”
Every eye turned to me. A strange smile tugged at my lips. I fought the inappropriate laughter. “Oh, I see,” I said calmly. “May I see this will, Cassandra?”
Her confidence faltered. She handed me a typed page with Adam’s purported signature. I quickly spotted inconsistencies: the language was wrong, and the signature was clearly forged. “Thank you for sharing this,” I said, handing it back. “I think I need to go now.”