Stephanie’s expression shifted instantly. She slowly set her wine glass down on the marble coffee table.
“Your ex? The one who cheated on you? Of course I remember. Why?”
“She’s sick. Cancer. It’s terminal.”
“And?” Stephanie shrugged, though her voice was tight. “That’s sad, I guess, but what does it have to do with us?”
“She has a daughter. Seven years old.”
“So?”
“She says I’m the father.”
The wine glass tipped over, splashing red across the white rug.
“What?!” Stephanie stood up. “Mike, that’s impossible.”
“Why is it impossible?”
“Because… because you know she was seeing someone else! Remember those photos and the emails? She was with that guy, David, right before you broke up.”
“The girl was born in December. The timing fits perfectly with when we were together.”
Stephanie paced the room nervously.
“Mike, think about this logically. This woman is dying and she wants to dump her kid on a wealthy man. It’s a classic play.”
“You should see this girl,” Mike said quietly. “She… she looks exactly like me.”
“Kids can look like anyone! It doesn’t prove anything! Mike, you can’t be serious.”
“What if it’s true? What if I have a daughter?”
“You don’t have a daughter!” she snapped. “Remember what the doctors said after that injury in college? The low fertility count? The odds were against it.”
“Low odds aren’t zero odds, Stephanie.”
Stephanie stopped and looked at him, panic flickering in her eyes.
“Mike, you can’t fall for this. Not after how she betrayed you.”
“What if she didn’t?”
“What do you mean? We had proof! Eight years ago!”
“Stephanie… what if someone wanted us apart?”
Stephanie went pale.
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about how convenient it all was. The emails you found. The photos you showed me. It all happened right when I was about to propose to her.”
“Mike, you’re being paranoid. I found those emails in her bag by accident when she left it at my place.”
“Accidentally? You were going through her bag?”
“I was looking for her phone to return it! And I saw the messages from that David guy. Mike, stop. You’re sounding crazy.”
Mike stood up and walked to the window. The city lights were a blur. He was remembering Hope—twenty years old, bright, full of life. They had met when she started as an intern at his firm. She was smart, ambitious, and genuine. He had fallen for her instantly.
They were happy for eighteen months. He had the ring in his desk. Then Stephanie, a family friend, brought him the “proof.”
“Remember what you told me then?” he asked. “That it was better to know the truth now than after the wedding? That you couldn’t stand to see me played for a fool?”
“And I was right.”
“And how convenient that a month after we broke up, you suddenly realized you were in love with me.”
“Mike, I don’t like where this is going.”
He turned around.
“I’m starting to see things differently. Tell me the truth, Stephanie. Did you fake those emails?”
“What? Are you insane?”
“Answer me.”
“No! Of course not! How could you even think that?”
“Because today I saw a seven-year-old girl who is the spitting image of my own childhood photos. And because eight years ago, you wanted Hope gone.”
Stephanie walked over and took his hands.
“Mike, honey, I know this is a shock. But think. If she really had your child, why wait seven years? Why now?”
“Maybe because she thought I hated her? Or maybe because she knew I’d been told a lie?”
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