“Daniel Arthur Reynolds,” she said, “sit down.”
He blinked. “Mother—”
“Sit. Down.”
He did not sit, but he went still.
She lifted the DNA report with trembling fingers.
“I taught you pride. That was my mistake. I thought pride would make you honorable.” Her voice cracked, but she kept going. “Instead, it made you cruel.”
Daniel’s father said her name softly.
She ignored him.
“You refused letters from a pregnant woman carrying your children. You let me mourn grandchildren I never knew existed. You brought another woman into this house tonight to celebrate a wedding built on lies.” She looked at the investigators’ folder. “And now this.”
“Nothing has been proven,” Daniel said.
Marianne’s eyes narrowed.
“No. But enough has been revealed.”
The words settled like judgment.
For one moment, Daniel looked younger. Not innocent, never that, but boyish in the way powerful men become boyish when the women who protected them finally stop.
