“Willa is my daughter,” James said. “Never speak about her as if she’s anything less.”
Joan gently took Willa to the kitchen to wash the chocolate from her face. Once they were gone, James asked how Evelyn had obtained the test. She first insisted that the method did not matter because the result had vindicated her. Robert, who had been silent with shock, told her that it mattered very much.
Evelyn finally admitted that during an earlier visit she had taken Willa’s discarded paper cup and removed James’s toothbrush from his travel bag. She mailed both to a private laboratory without our knowledge. The report could only establish that the samples did not show a biological parent-child relationship, yet she had treated it as proof of adultery.
“You tested our child behind our backs,” I said. My anger was fierce, but I kept my voice low. “Then you humiliated her at a family dinner.”
Evelyn’s confidence faltered. She said she had watched James build a life farther and farther from her and had convinced herself that I was responsible. If Willa was not biologically his, she thought she could expose me, rescue him, and bring him home.
James looked wounded rather than surprised. He told her we had moved because her constant intrusions made our home feel unsafe. Then he asked her to leave.
“Not forever,” he said when she began to cry. “But until you understand what you did, you will have no contact with Willa.”
