Alright, lets do a DNA test, I said, trying to keep my smile steady as I looked at Blythe. And perhaps your husband should check his own paternity too
Youre right, she snapped, her voice sharp as the door slammed behind us after we left the maternity ward.
I froze, grocery bags in my hands. Had she really decided this was the moment to bring it up?
Enough, Kate, Edward Whitaker, her husband, said gently, pulling Blythe into the spare bedroom and casting a sympathetic glance my way.
Left alone with Elliot, I stared at his light hair and pale blue eyes, the tiny nose that reminded me exactly of my own grandfather as a boy. Id have to ask my mother for old photographs to compare.
From the balcony, my mothers voice cut through the night air. She was on the phone, the words unmistakable.
Your grandson was born and you didnt even show up!
She slammed the receiver down, then sighed when she saw me.
Sorry, love, I ruined your day. I hoped your dad would be here, but even a grandson cant pull him away from his bottle.
Its not your fault, Mum, I whispered, pulling her into a hug.
That evening, the family gathered around the festive table. Blythe fought to keep her resentment hidden, while Edward and James tried to lighten the mood. When the guests finally left, James clasped my shoulder.
Thank you for giving us our son.
Time rushed forwardfirst steps, first words, sleepless nights. We bought a flat in Camden, swapped our old hatchback for a sleek sedan, and Elliot started nursery.
Im scared of school, I confessed one night, the anxiety of parentteacher meetings weighing on me.
Itll be fine, James soothed.
Our fragile peace shattered when we reached the Whitaker cottage in Surrey. Blythe grew colder, avoiding Elliot, her eyes icy with suspicion.
Look at him, she hissed while we were washing dishes. Red hair, freckles Are you sure hes Jamess child?
Are you certain Edward is your sons father? I snapped back, the kitchen suddenly feeling like a courtroom.
She froze, her face turning a shade paler.
How dare you!
You, I retorted, storming out, grabbing my bag, and taking Elliot home.
The next day we sent off the DNA test. The results were predictableElliot was indeed our son. I slipped the official document into my bag without a word.
Blythe, however, would not be silenced. At Edwards birthday, she muttered, Your grandson looks just like his grandma! And ours? She sneered, pointing at Elliot.
I placed the results on the table, sliding them toward her.
Read this. Your doubts were misplaced. Perhaps now youll tend to the skeletons in your own closet?
Her complexion drained completely.
A few days later, James returned home, broken.
Kate he sank to the floor, hands covering his head. Edward and I did the test. It turned out he isnt my father.
I embraced him, words failing.
Later, Edward walked into our kitchen, his expression resolute.
Im filing for divorce from Blythe, he declared. But James, youll always be my son. Blood isnt everything.
James broke down, hugging Edward fiercely.
Our family survived the blow. Blythe was left alone, while we, oddly enough, grew stronger.
Half a year after Edwards split from Blythe, life seemed to settle. James gradually let go of his mothers betrayals, Elliot spent cheerful weekends with his grandfather and dad, and I stopped flinching at every phone ring.
One night, while rinsing plates, an unfamiliar number lit up the screen.
Kate? a hoarse male voice asked, unsure. Its your old schoolmate.
A spoon clanged against the sink.
Seth? I hadnt seen him in ten years, not since we moved to the county.
We need to meet. Its important.
About what?
Its about your motherinlaw.
We met in a tiny café under an open sky.
Blythes been hunting me down, Seth said, swirling his mineral water. She claimed Elliot was my son because hes as redhaired as I am, and she offered me money.
What?! I gasped. She actually thought Id given birth to your child?
He nodded, cheeks flushing. She was convinced something had happened between us I refused to submit to any tests. I told her I couldnt help a child that wasnt mine, and even if I still cared for you, I wouldnt tear your family apart.
My hands trembled. It wasnt just suspicionit was a malicious plot to humiliate me.
I told James everything when we got home. He turned ashen.
So she lied not only to Edward she wanted to destroy my family too.
The following day Edward burst through the door, slamming it shut.
Blythe has sued! She wants half the cottage!
On what grounds? James demanded, fury flashing in his eyes.
She says she has no means to live onher pension is tiny, and she wants to sell the cottage.
That evening the phone rang again. Blythes voice, laden with venom, cut through the silence.
Happy for you? she snarled. Youve ruined a family, now youre finishing it off. Its you whos the monster, you wretched girl!
You lied to your husband! You turned your back on your grandson! I shouted back.
Elliot will never be my grandson, she hissed before hanging up.
A week later, her lawyer sent a letter demanding a court order to bar Edward from seeing Elliot, claiming he was not a blood relative.
Its revenge, James whispered, fingers tracing the legal papers. Shes lost her mind.
Edward merely smiled.
Let her try, he said.
The judge dismissed every one of Blythes demands and, after hearing the full story, warned her of the consequences of defamation.
On the day of the final verdict, Edward produced an old photograph: a young James perched on Edwards shoulders, both laughing.
This is what family looks like, he said. It isnt blood or a name. Its this.
Elliot suddenly ran over and threw his arms around his grandfather.
Youre the best! he exclaimed.
Blythe was left utterly alone.
A year later, we spotted her in a park, sitting on a bench, eyes vacant. Elliot, oblivious to any hatred, waved at her.
She turned away.
Feel sorry for her? James asked.
No, I answered honestly. Its a pity for those she hurt.
We walked on, heading toward Edward, who was gently swinging Elliot on a wooden swing.
Our true family, at last, together.
