“I told you I would.”

Daniel stood beside her in a pale linen suit, his hand spread proudly across her belly. He looked polished, smug, and painfully foolish—the kind of man who mistakes silence for surrender.

“You look well,” he said carefully.

“You look fertile,” I answered.

His smile twitched slightly.

Camille laughed too loudly. “Still bitter? Oh, sweetheart, don’t be. Life gives different women different blessings.”

Around us, guests pretended not to listen. Daniel’s parents sat beside the fireplace, his mother glittering in diamonds while his father watched me carefully like a man who remembered exactly how much I knew about his business dealings.

Camille leaned closer toward me. “I hope this isn’t too painful for you. Watching Daniel finally become a father.”

I looked calmly at her stomach.

“I imagine this situation is painful for several people.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, but someone called for games, and she drifted away again like a queen wrapped in stolen luxury and borrowed bloodlines.

I placed my gift onto the table.

A blue box tied with silver ribbon.

No card.

For the next hour, I watched them perform their little fantasy.

Daniel kissed Camille’s temple every time cameras appeared nearby. Camille told guests their baby was “a Mercer miracle.” Across the room, Alistair stood near the bar looking pale and sweating through his collar. Every time Camille laughed, his eyes flickered nervously toward Daniel, then toward me.

There was my answer.

He knew that I knew.

After the cake cutting, he followed me quietly into the hallway.

“Naomi,” he whispered. “Please.”

I turned slowly. “Please what?”

His face crumpled immediately. Alistair had always been softer than Daniel, though softness was not the same thing as innocence.

“It only happened once.”

“Then you’re an incredibly efficient brother.”

He flinched visibly.

“She told me Daniel knew,” he said desperately. “She said they had an arrangement. She said he couldn’t… she said they needed help.”

“And you believed her?”

“I wanted to.” His voice cracked painfully. “She told me she loved me.”

For one brief second, I almost felt sorry for him.

Almost.

“Did Daniel know?” I asked.

Alistair looked toward the ballroom where Daniel accepted congratulations like royalty.

“No.”

There it was.

Not destiny. Not an agreement. Just another betrayal built entirely on vanity.

I opened my clutch purse and handed Alistair a folded document.

His eyes scanned the page. The color drained from his face immediately.

“What is this?”

“A notice. Your father has been funneling company money into Daniel’s lifestyle while hiding it beneath consulting fees. Daniel signed false financial disclosures during our divorce. Camille helped move assets through her boutique account.”

“I didn’t know.”

“Now you do.”

He stared at me silently.

I stepped closer. “You have two options. Continue lying for them and drown alongside them, or tell the truth when the room starts asking questions.”

“She’ll destroy me.”

“No,” I said quietly. “She already has. I’m simply handing you the microphone.”

From inside the ballroom, Camille’s voice rang out brightly.

“Gift time!”

Alistair looked physically ill.

I touched his sleeve lightly.

“Wrong woman,” I whispered.

“What?”

“She thought she stole from someone weak.”

Then I walked back toward the applause.

PART 3

Camille opened lace blankets, tiny shoes, silver baby spoons engraved with Baby Mercer. Every present made her glow brighter. Every compliment made Daniel stand taller.

Then she reached for my blue box.

The atmosphere shifted before she even untied the ribbon.

Guests leaned forward curiously. Daniel crossed his arms. Camille lifted the lid with exaggerated sweetness.

“Oh, Naomi,” she said loudly enough for everyone to hear. “You really shouldn’t have.”

Inside sat a framed document.

Not a birth certificate.

Not a blessing.

A certified DNA report.

Camille’s smile froze instantly.

Daniel frowned. “What the hell is that?”

I stood slowly.

“My gift,” I said calmly, “is the truth.”