Part 2: The Verdict of the Past
The sound of the wine glass shattering against the hardwood floor felt like a gunshot, piercing the suffocating silence of the room. Marcus’s mother, Evelyn, stood frozen. Her eyes darted frantically between my face and the four children, finally locking onto the birth certificates held by my eldest son, Leo.
"Mommy..." Leo looked up at me, his eyes innocent yet cutting straight through Marcus’s cowardice. "Who is this man? Why is he looking at us like that? He looks scary."
I gently stroked Leo’s hair and smiled softly. "Go ahead and give them to him, sweetheart. That is the Christmas gift he truly deserves."
Leo took a brave step forward, holding out the neatly folded papers toward Marcus. Marcus looked entirely disoriented, his hands trembling so violently that the velvet ring box holding the diamond ring nearly slipped from his fingers. Hesitantly, as if drawn by an invisible, terrifying force, he snatched the papers from the boy's hand.
"No... This is impossible..." Marcus muttered, his voice choked and hollow. His eyes scanned the text, stopping dead at the line designating the father: Marcus Reynolds. Then his gaze shifted to their birthdays. They were quadruplets.
"Marcus! Say something! What is the meaning of this?!" The woman in the sparkling red dress—Chloe, his now-shattered fiancée-to-be—shrieked. She ripped the papers from his hands. As she saw the birth dates and Marcus's name clearly printed in the parent section, her face morphed from pure shock into burning rage. "You told me you never had children! You told me your ex-wife was a delusional gold-digger who made up lies just to extort money from you?!"
"Chloe, let me explain..." Marcus stammered, his face completely drained of color. The smug confidence of a self-made "successful man" vanished instantly, leaving behind nothing but a pathetic liar caught red-handed.
Evelyn finally regained her composure. She stepped forward, trying to maintain her aristocratic demeanor, though her voice betrayed her panic. "Cynthia... did you bring these random children here just to ruin my son’s special day? Do you honestly think a few pieces of forged paper will grant you entry back into the Reynolds family?"
I burst into laughter—a clear, resonant, and deeply mocking laugh that echoed through the luxurious living room.
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"Evelyn, you haven't changed a bit. Still as arrogant and blind as ever," I said, stepping forward until I was standing face-to-face with her. "Look closely at their faces. Those piercing blue eyes, that nose, even the dimples when they laugh... Do you think I hired a team of plastic surgeons to sculpt four children to look exactly like your son? If you still have doubts, my helicopter is still running out in your yard. I can fly your entire family to a DNA testing facility right now. The cost? It's on me."
Silence swallowed the room once more. Marcus couldn't even bring himself to look into my eyes. He stared blankly at the floor, where the spilled red wine looked like the bleeding remnants of the family he had willfully abandoned eight years ago.
