“Call his family.”
Maverick swung his legs off the bed.
“Amy, don’t do that.”
“His parents. His sister. His godfather. Tell them to come here.”
“We need privacy.”
I glanced at his jacket, Penelope’s dress, and the destroyed future lying between them.
“Privacy?”
I called Evelyn Bennett.
She answered on the second ring.
“Amy? Honey, where is everyone? The chapel is in chaos.”
“You need to come to room 237 at the Millbrook Inn.”
“What happened?”
“Bring the entire family.”
Maverick moved toward me.
“Amy, hang up.”
I stared directly into his eyes.
“Now.”
Evelyn said they were coming.
The instant I lowered my phone, Penelope began crying.
“Amy, I swear we didn’t sleep together.”
“You’re naked in bed with my fiancé.”
“I don’t know how I got here.”
Maverick stopped searching for his shirt.
“What do you remember?”
Penelope squeezed her eyes shut.
“Coming upstairs to meet you. Then Luke arrived with champagne.”
Maverick’s face changed.
“He told me Amy sent it.”
I looked at him.
“I sent nothing.”
Maverick rubbed his temples.
“I remember drinking half a glass. After that—nothing.”
My father stepped closer.
“You expect us to believe you were both drugged?”
Penelope looked at him with sudden hatred.
“You know we were.”
The room went still.
My father’s expression barely changed, but Aunt Rose turned toward him.
“What did she mean by that, David?”
“Nothing. She’s panicking.”
Penelope pointed toward the chair near the window.
“My purse. Amy, there’s a blue envelope inside.”
I found the purse beneath her dress.
The envelope had my name written across it.
**The handwriting was Penelope’s.**
“What is this?” I asked.
“Something I should have given you two days ago.”
Footsteps thundered through the hallway before she could say more.
Evelyn Bennett entered first, followed by her husband, Richard, their daughter Claire, and Maverick’s godfather, Judge Alan Wexler.
Evelyn looked at the bed.
Then at the envelope.
The color vanished from her face.
“Where did you get that?”
I tore it open.
Inside was a private laboratory report.
Three names appeared at the top.
Amy Carter.
Maverick Bennett.
David Carter.
I read the conclusion twice because my mind rejected it the first time.
**Probability that Amy Carter and Maverick Bennett shared the same biological father: 99.98 percent.**
The room seemed to shrink.
I looked at Maverick.
His face had gone blank.
Then I turned toward my father.
He stared at the carpet.
Aunt Rose closed her hand around my wrist.
“David,” she said, “tell your daughter why you tried to stop this wedding without telling her the truth.”
My mother swayed.
“What does she mean?”
Evelyn sat heavily in a chair.
Richard Bennett looked at his wife.
“Evelyn?”
She covered her mouth.
Thirty-four years earlier, before either family had money, my father and Evelyn had worked at the same Richmond insurance office.
They had been young.
Married to other people.
And having an affair.
Evelyn learned she was pregnant weeks after ending it. Richard had believed Maverick was his son, and Evelyn had let him.
My father had suspected the truth but never demanded a test.
When I was born three years later, he buried the past.
He never imagined his daughter would someday fall in love with the son he had abandoned.
My mother stared at him as though she had never seen him before.
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