she said, smiling that sharp smile. Jason sat frozen. I stood, humiliated, holding Ava. And something in me snapped. “If we’re telling the truth,” I said, “there’s something your father told me before he died. Jason, he knew Sandra cheated. He found out through a DNA test. You’re not his son. You’re Robert’s—your uncle.” The party fell silent. Sandra’s face turned white. Jason sat in shock. I didn’t want to reveal it like that—but her public attack left me no choice. We left the party without a word. Two days later,
Jason mailed back the test and slid me a note: “Keep this. You’ll need it when your next lie blows up.” He looked at me, eyes full of apology. “I’m sorry—for not standing up for you.” Sandra hasn’t contacted us since. But Robert called. And now, I’m done staying quiet. I’m done shrinking. Ava’s next birthday will be peaceful, honest, and free—from all of them.