Peyton’s head snapped up. The arrogant, triumphant smirk vanished from her face, replaced by a look of stark, naked panic. She reached out, attempting to snatch the envelope from the table.
I was faster. I slammed my hand down on top of the documents, pinning them to the wood. I leaned in close to Peyton, lowering my voice so only the head of the table could hear.
“Touch it,” I hissed, “and I will read it aloud.”
Peyton recoiled as if I had burned her.
David ran a trembling hand through his hair. “Lauren, please. Just let us be. We’re starting a family.”
“Are you?” I asked loudly, straightening up so the entire room could hear. I picked up the envelope and pulled out the first document—the medical receipts Evelyn had procured. I slid them across the table until they stopped inches from Eleanor’s plate.
“That is a receipt from the Camelback Aesthetics Center,” I announced. “For a custom, medical-grade saline belly prosthetic. Purchased by Peyton three days ago.”
A collective gasp echoed through the dining room. An aunt at the far end of the table dropped her fork. It clattered against fine china, a sharp punctuation mark in the heavy silence.
Eleanor picked up the receipt, her hands trembling slightly. She adjusted her reading glasses. The color drained from her face, leaving her looking suddenly old and frail. “Peyton… what is this?”
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