She leaned closer, lowering her voice. “Ethan isn’t his little brother… he’s his son.”
For a moment, the words made no sense. I stared at her, my mind blank, until she casually dropped a folded envelope onto the table. It slid toward me, stopping beside my untouched wine glass.
“A DNA report,” she said calmly. “Since you trust him so much, I figured you deserved to see the truth.”
Then she turned and walked away, leaving me frozen in my seat as everything around me seemed to blur.
My fingers trembled as I opened the envelope. Two names jumped out at me—Damien Caldwell and Ethan Caldwell. Beneath them, the result was clear: 99.99% probability of paternity.
No… this couldn’t be real.
If it were true, Damien would have told me. He wouldn’t hide something this huge. There had to be an error. Or Camille had fabricated it. She must have.
I grabbed my bag and hurried out, ignoring the curious stares and the waiter calling after me. The cool night air hit my face as I rushed to my car. My hands shook so badly that I struggled to insert the key into the ignition.