Halfway through the cocktail hour, Gerald asked for a microphone. The room quieted as he stepped onto the small raised platform my grandmother had set up for toasts. He cleared his throat, adjusted his jacket, and smiled at the crowd like a king addressing his subjects.
“First, I’d like to congratulate Nathan,”
he began.
“You’re a brave man marrying into this complicated family.”
A few nervous chuckles rippled through the crowd.
“But I think we all know why I’m really up here.”
Gerald’s gaze found me in the crowd and something cold flickered in his eyes.
“There’s been a lot of talk lately, a lot of speculation. I asked Tori to take a DNA test, and I know she did. What I don’t know is why she’s been hiding the results.”
The room went completely silent.
“So, I thought I’d help her out.”
He reached into his jacket and pulled out a folded piece of paper.
“My son was kind enough to share a copy of the report with me.”
Marcus had the decency to look ashamed, at least.
Gerald unfolded the paper with theatrical slowness.
“0% genetic match with Gerald Townsend. 0% genetic match with Diane Townsend.”
Gasps echoed through the room. My mother gripped Elanor’s hand. Twenty-eight years.
Gerald’s voice rose with vindicated fury.
“28 years I’ve been telling everyone that something wasn’t right. And now the science proves it.”
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