Chapter 4Paternity Prank Gone Deadly Wrong

Pulling myself out of the memory, I looked at Diane with absolute, chilling calm.

"You're saying I slept around? That I made Nathan a cuckold?" I tilted my head, my voice eerily steady. "Is this another one of your jokes, Mom? Or are you being serious?"

The guests, many of whom were extended family who knew Diane’s reputation, started murmuring.

“Diane, come on, that’s going too far.”

“Not today, Diane. Drop the act.”

This wasn't the reaction she had scripted in her head. She shifted uncomfortably, realizing the crowd wasn't immediately pulling out their pitchforks. She gritted her teeth. "I might have a sense of humor, Harper, but I know where to draw the line. I would never joke about this."

Nathan looked shaken, his brow furrowed in deep confusion, but—unlike my first life—he didn't pull away. The foundation of our marriage had shifted since I woke up a week ago. I had spent the last seven days loving him fiercely, communicating with him, fortifying us.

He stepped slightly in front of me, taking my hand. "Diane, I know my wife. I know who she is. Mia is my daughter."

Tom and Carol, emboldened by Nathan’s stance, moved to flank me. "Exactly," Carol said sharply.

Having my chosen family form a physical wall around me gave me a rush of adrenaline. I leaned into it.

"You heard him," I said, my voice hardening. "If you're going to make an accusation like that, you better have the evidence to back it up. Otherwise, you can walk out those doors and never call yourself my mother again."

My father, Robert, turned purple with rage. He lunged forward, raising his hand to slap me, but Nathan caught his wrist mid-air, his grip like a vise.

Denied his violence, Robert stomped his foot like a petulant child. "How dare you speak to her like that! You think your mother would just make this up?"

Derek nodded vigorously. "Mom is just trying to save Nathan from wasting his life on a liar! You should be on your knees begging Nathan for forgiveness so he doesn't throw you out on the street!"

I rolled my eyes at the two of them, pulled out my phone, and tapped the screen. "Show me the proof, Diane. Right now. Or I am dialing 911 and pressing charges for criminal defamation."

Seeing I wasn't backing down, a triumphant gleam sparked in Diane’s eyes. "You want proof? Fine. Explain this!"

She unzipped her designer tote, pulled out a crisp manila envelope, and whipped out a thick stack of papers, flipping straight to the final page.

"Right here! 'Probability of Paternity: 0%.' Sample A is the baby. Sample B is Nathan. It's scientific proof! What do you have to say for yourself now?"