Chapter 9 - The Collision
We did not have to wait long for the confrontation. Two days after receiving the laboratory results, the front doorbell rang aggressively. It was not a polite knock. It was a rapid, demanding pounding that echoed through the entire house.
I checked the security camera. Diane was standing on the porch. She looked frantic. Her usually pristine hair was messy, and she was wearing a coat that was misaligned on her shoulders. She had realized that her calls were being ignored and that the family gossip was no longer enough to force us into submission.
"She is here," I told Natalie, who was feeding Maya in the living room.
Natalie’s eyes hardened into steel. She carefully handed Maya to my mother, Susan, who had just arrived with fresh groceries.
"Take the babies upstairs, please," Natalie instructed softly. Susan nodded, her expression grim, and carried her granddaughter away from the impending war zone.
I opened the front door. Diane immediately tried to push past me into the foyer.
"Where is my daughter?" Diane demanded, her voice shrill. "You cannot keep me away from her. I have a right to see my grandchildren."
"You have no rights in this house," I stated coldly, blocking her path with my body.
"Let her in, Ethan," Natalie’s voice rang out from the living room.
I stepped aside. Diane rushed into the room, stopping dead in her tracks when she saw Natalie sitting calmly on the sofa. There was no fear in Natalie’s eyes anymore. There was only judgment.
"Natalie, thank goodness," Diane gasped, holding her hands over her chest. "People are saying terrible things. We need to handle this situation privately. You need to tell me who the father is so we can manage the damage."
Natalie did not raise her voice. She reached over to the glass coffee table and picked up the brown envelope Beatrice had left. She pulled out the black and white photograph of Evelyn and Isaiah and dropped it onto the center of the glass table.
"Manage the damage?" Natalie asked softly. "Like your mother managed this?"
Diane looked down at the photograph. The color instantly drained from her face. She took two staggering steps backward, her hands flying to her mouth to stifle a scream. Her eyes darted wildly around the room, as if searching for an escape route.
"Where did you get that?" Diane whispered, her voice trembling violently.
May you like
"Beatrice Cole brought it to us," Natalie answered, her tone dripping with absolute disgust. "She brought the letters, too. The letters your father wrote to your mother. The father you pretended did not exist. The father you were so ashamed of that you decided to destroy my life rather than admit Maya inherited his skin."
Diane’s knees gave out. She collapsed onto the armchair opposite the sofa, burying her face in her hands. She began to sob, but it was not the crying of a victim. It was the desperate, ugly crying of a coward who had finally been trapped by the truth.
:max_bytes(150000):strip_icc():focal(1048x378:1050x380)/Jenna-Bush-Hager-100223-c94955eb572d47ea815a340c18c6e771.jpg)