Chapter 8 - The True Father
The color drained entirely from Natalie’s face, leaving her looking like a porcelain doll. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out.
“And the real father,” I continued, my voice ringing with cold authority, “is actually sitting in this very room.”
A murmur of shock rippled through the guests. People began looking over their shoulders, scanning the sea of faces.
“Three tables away from you, to be exact,” I said, pointing directly into the crowd. “His name is Jason. Your coworker. The man you invited tonight as your 'plus one' to watch you destroy my life.”
The entire room turned in unison, following the trajectory of my pointed finger. A dark-haired man sitting at table number seven shot to his feet so violently that his chair tipped over backward and crashed onto the marble. He did not try to run for the exit. He simply stood there, pale and frozen, staring up at Natalie in sheer horror.
And Natalie stared back at him. Everything was written in that single, devastating look connecting them across the room—the secret hookups, the overlapping lies, the catastrophic miscalculation.
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Down below the stage, Eric collapsed heavily into his chair. He buried his face in his hands, letting out a wretched, guttural sound. Ten years of marriage discarded, his career and reputation tarnished, and in the end, even the baby they had used as a weapon to destroy my life did not belong to him. He was left with absolutely nothing.
I stood on the stage, looking down at the wreckage of their lives. I had executed my plan flawlessly. I had won. At least, that was what I truly believed as I walked out of the ballroom that night.
