Two days after my son’s wedding, the restaurant manager called me and said, “We checked the security footage again. You need to see this yourself.” Then he told me to come alone… and not to tell my wife.

Beatrice poured champagne.

“To the stupidest man in Atlanta,” Megan said.

Beatrice laughed.

“To Elijah,” she replied. “The goose that lays the golden eggs.”
I gripped the chair.

Then they talked about selling the lakehouse I had gifted my son and using the money for Megan’s debts and a condo in Miami. They talked about my family trust, the one that would unlock millions when a biological grandchild was born. Familyhistory research

Then Megan touched her stomach and laughed.

“Terrence thinks the baby is his. He doesn’t even know how to do the math.”

Beatrice warned her not to let me demand a DNA test.

My chest tightened.

Then Megan asked when I would “retire permanently.”