Chapter 5 - The Sealed Envelope
Wednesday arrived under a blanket of heavy, gray rain.
I barely slept the night before, waking up every hour to check the clock. At 8:30 AM, Jenna walked into my kitchen carrying three iced coffees and a look of cold, razor-sharp certainty.
"The courier just picked up the certified packet from Genex Diagnostics," Jenna said, placing a cup in front of me. "A digital copy was routed to my secure legal portal ten minutes ago."
My breath caught in my throat. Despite knowing with absolute biological certainty that Tyler was the only man I had ever been with, my heart hammered like a trapped bird. "Did you open it?"
Jenna smiled—a slow, brilliant, ruthless curve of her lips. She turned her iPad toward me.
There, in stark black and white beneath the gold foil digital seal of Genex Diagnostics, were the words that crushed every lie the Mercer family had whispered into the ear of our community:
**PROBABILITY OF PATERNITY: 99.999%**
**CONCLUSION: Tyler Mercer cannot be excluded as the biological father of the unborn female child.**
A tear escaped my lash line, hot and silent, tracing its way down my cheek before dropping onto the glass screen. All the humiliation of that Sunday barbecue—the sneering relatives, the paper plates tossed in disgust, Denise’s shrill accusations echoing across the lawn while Tyler stared at his expensive sneakers—crumbled into dust.
"It's over," I whispered, pressing a hand against my chest.
"Oh, sweetheart, it’s not over," Jenna corrected gently, tapping the screen. "The defense is over. Now begins the offensive. And Denise has conveniently laid the groundwork for us."
"What do you mean?"
Jenna pulled up Facebook on her phone. Denise had posted an update just fifteen minutes earlier:
*“Heading to the Mercer Family Firm boardroom at 11:00 AM for our weekly executive luncheon. If Claire Vance has the courage to bring the test results she promised, our doors are open. But we all know silence is the confession of guilt. The truth always reveals itself.”*
Jenna looked at Owen, who was leaning against the counter, then looked at me. "She thinks we got a negative result and are cowering in shame. She invited the world to witness her victory. Shall we accept the invitation?"
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"Print five hard copies on bond paper," I said, standing up and smoothing down the front of my emerald green maternity dress. "And put on your best suit, Jenna. We're going to lunch."
***
