“Your mother is waiting. She’s very concerned about the decisions you’re making tonight.”
“My mother can wait.”
“She won’t appreciate hearing that.”
“I don’t particularly care.”
Her expression hardened.
“You’re throwing away everything you’ve built.”
I couldn’t help laughing quietly.
“No. I almost lost everything because I trusted the wrong people.”
She stared at me without speaking.
Then I asked another question.
“Why did you tell Emily I didn’t want my own child?”
Vivian’s eyes narrowed.
“I never said that.”
“She has the emails.”
“She misunderstood.”
“She has witnesses.”
“You’re still confused.”
I reached into my coat pocket and removed the anonymous letter Emily had shown me earlier. Holding it between us, I watched the color slowly disappear from Vivian’s face.
“Do you recognize this?”
She hesitated for the smallest fraction of a second before answering.
“No.”
“Interesting.”
“Why?”
“Because the paper came from my executive office.”
Her confidence cracked.
“The watermark belongs exclusively to our company.”
She said nothing.
“The printer code embedded in the document identifies exactly which office machine produced it.”
Another silence.
“And only three people had access to that printer.”
Vivian slowly looked away.
At that moment the front gate opened, and another car entered the driveway.
My mother’s black Mercedes rolled to a stop beside the curb.
She stepped out without hurrying, adjusting her gloves before walking toward us with the confidence of someone who believed she still controlled the situation.
“Gavin,” she said calmly, “come home.”
“No.”
She barely acknowledged Emily’s house behind me.
“This conversation shouldn’t be happening here.”
“Then where should it happen?”
“At home. Privately.”
I shook my head.
“My son lives here.”