On my wedding day, my husband and my adopted stepsister proudly held their newborn twins and announced it to me.

That woman was my adopted stepsister.

The orchestra stopped in the middle of a note. Champagne glasses froze halfway to mouths. Three hundred guests turned toward the ballroom entrance like they had heard a gunshot.

Derek wore his ivory tuxedo like royalty. Beside him stood Lena in a pale pink gown intentionally close to bridal white. One newborn slept in her arms. The other rested against Derek’s chest.

My bouquet trembled once.

Then I steadied it.

“Surprise,” Derek announced brightly. “I thought everyone deserved to meet my sons.”

Shock spread through the room.

So did pity.