They Faked a DNA Test, So I Made Them Test Everyone novel · Chapter 1 of 16
Chapter 1: Surprise Entertainment
A fake paternity report flashes on the screen at Patricia's sixtieth, Douglas calls Finley a bastard on a hidden livestream, and Kate, reborn, agrees and demands a three-generation DNA test.
The slideshow of my mother-in-law's youth flickered, and my son's name appeared on the screen under the words NOT THE FATHER.
Douglas Whitlow and Finley Corbett.
Biological father-son relationship not supported.
Sixty guests went silent at once.
Somebody's fork hit a plate.
Finley was on my lap in his little clip-on tie, holding his stuffed otter.
He couldn't read yet.
He looked up at me because everyone else was looking at him.
Patricia pressed a hand to her mouth.
It was a perfect gasp, the kind she rehearsed in mirrors.
"Kate," she said. "What is this supposed to mean?"
At the next table, my sister-in-law Tamara swung her phone toward Finley's face.
"No wonder he doesn't look like any of us," Tamara said. "You travel all year for trade shows, right? Is this what the trips were for?"
A few people laughed.
Not many.
Enough.
My husband sat beside me.
He didn't look at the screen.
He didn't look at Finley, who was curling smaller and smaller against my chest.
He slid a manila envelope across the tablecloth until it touched my wine glass.
"It's out now," Douglas said. "You can stop pretending."
Then he said it, loud enough for the back of the room.
"Whose bastard is he?"
I had heard those words before.
That was the thing nobody in the room knew.
The first time, I lost my mind right here.
I ran to the projector and ripped the cable out.
I sobbed that Finley was his, begged him, begged Patricia, begged anyone.
Tamara cut my screaming into a fifteen-second clip and called it "Cheating Wife Exposed."
It got nine million views.
Strangers found Finley's preschool.
Strangers found my office.
I lost the Harborline launch I'd spent a year building, then the job, then the condo, then my son.
Douglas got custody because I was "unstable."
There was a clip to prove it.
When the truth came out a year later, Douglas just shrugged.
"We wanted to scare you a little. It was a family prank. Why did you have to ruin everyone over it?"
I died in a rented room that winter.
The heat was off.
Nobody called.
Then I opened my eyes in this chair, with Finley warm on my lap, one minute before the report hit the screen.
So this time I didn't move.
I held my son tighter.
And I saw words hanging in the air above the table, pale as breath on glass.
[Don't deny it. The report is fake, but the camera is real.]
[There's a phone hidden in the vase beside the projector. It's livestreaming.]
[Douglas knows the report is fake. They need you falling apart so you'll sign before the trust distribution.]
[Say it. Patricia's thirty-two-year-old secret will do the rest.]
Nobody else looked up.
Nobody else could see them.
I turned to my father-in-law at the head of the table.
Graham Whitlow owned seven seafood restaurants in Lakehaven, and tonight he'd planned to name my son to the family trust.
His face was gray.
"Graham," I said. "Patricia is right. Finley isn't your biological grandson."
Triumph flashed in Patricia's eyes, too fast to hide.
"You all heard her," she said. "She admitted it herself."
Tamara was laughing so hard her shoulders shook.
"Oh my God, this reaction was so worth it."
Then she heard herself and shut her mouth.
Douglas grabbed my wrist under the table.
"Sign it, Kate. I can still leave you a little dignity."
I peeled his fingers off one at a time.
I set Finley in my chair and tucked Captain the otter under his arm.
"Stay right here, baby."
I walked to the projector.
The tall glass vase beside it held white lilies and a phone taped behind the stems.
It was hot in my hand.
The screen was a blur of comments.
A timer in the corner said the stream had been live for twenty-six minutes.
"Thats Whitlows on the Pier, I know this place."
"screenshot the kid lol"
"when do they throw the lying mom and son out"
I carried it back and set it face up in front of Tamara's plate.
Her smile went stiff.
I opened the recorder on my own phone and dialed 911 on speaker.
"I need to report a crime," I said. "Someone forged a medical document about my five-year-old son and is streaming his face to strangers right now."
The whole room heard the dispatcher ask for the address.
I gave it.
Patricia stood so fast her chair tipped.
"Kate, hang up. You're embarrassing yourself."
"No," I said. "I'm finishing what you started."
I looked at Graham again.
"I said Finley isn't your biological grandson," I said. "I never said he isn't Douglas's son."
Graham's eyebrows drew together.
"Then what are you saying?"
"I'm saying one paper test isn't enough."
I put my hand on Finley's curls.
"I want a real DNA test. Three generations. You, Douglas and Finley, with the police choosing the lab."
The room murmured.
Douglas laughed, short and ugly.
"Fine by me."
Graham nodded slowly.
"Fine by me too."
Behind him, Patricia's champagne glass slipped out of her fingers and exploded on the marble floor.
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