“I promise you,” I said calmly, “you won’t find anyone here more closely related to the groom than his biological children.”
The woman froze.
Behind her, guests had already started whispering.
The ceremony hadn’t even begun.
And the wedding was already dying.
Moments later Eleanor came downstairs.
Her face looked different now.
Not elegant.
Not controlled.
Terrified.
“What is the meaning of this?” she hissed. “Leave immediately before I have security remove you.”
“Try it,” I answered softly.
I nodded toward the crowd.
“The senator is here. Reporters are filming. If one guard touches my children, I’ll sue publicly.”
I leaned closer.
“And unlike five years ago, Eleanor…”
“I now have far more money than you do.”
Something cracked behind her eyes.
Then she looked helplessly toward the boys.
The resemblance was impossible to deny.
At that moment Ethan finally approached us.
He looked like a man walking toward his own funeral. Caleb tilted his head at him unconsciously—the exact expression Ethan used whenever he was confused. Several guests gasped aloud.
