“Already filed the emergency injunction,” she replied sharply. “With the medical proof of paternity and the timeline establishing his abandonment, the judge granted a temporary freeze on all of David’s asset transfers. The money he moved to that offshore LLC yesterday? Locked. He can’t touch a dime to fund his new life.”
A small, dark thrill of satisfaction sparked in my chest. “And my firm?”
“I sent a cease-and-desist to your senior partners and a direct threat of a defamation lawsuit against David. Your job is safe. But Lauren, there’s something else.” Evelyn paused, the silence heavy. “David’s mother, Eleanor.”
I groaned. Eleanor Vance was a woman who wielded her social standing like a broadsword. She had never thought I was good enough for her son, entirely too middle-class, too ambitious.
“What did Eleanor do?” I asked, dreading the answer.
“She’s hosting a dinner party tomorrow night at the estate. A grand, catered affair. She’s officially welcoming Peyton into the family. She’s framing it as a ‘celebration of new beginnings’—which, presumably, includes Peyton’s miraculous immaculate conception.”
I pulled into my driveway, the house dark and empty. David’s absence was a physical void in the living room, but looking at it now, it didn’t feel like a loss. It felt like a cleared battlefield.
“Evelyn,” I said slowly, a dangerous idea blooming in my mind. “I think I need to attend that dinner.”
“Lauren, that’s walking into a firing squad. They will humiliate you.”
“No,” I corrected her, picking up the glossy ultrasound photos from the passenger seat. I stared at the two tiny, blurry shapes that had just saved my life. “They are going to try. But they are operating on outdated intelligence. Send a private investigator to dig into Peyton’s medical records. If she’s faking this pregnancy, I want the proof in my hand by 6:00 PM tomorrow.”
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