On my wedding day, my husband and my adopted stepsister proudly held their newborn twins and announced it to me.

“Sit down, Marissa,” I said coldly.

She sat immediately.

Because she remembered exactly what I warned her that morning:
One more lie, and the police report becomes public.

Derek stared at Lena. “Whose babies are they?”

Lena opened her mouth.

Nothing came out.

So I answered for her.

“A donor selected by your mother.”

Every head turned toward Evelyn.

She closed her eyes. “I chose the donor because Derek is sterile. He already knew that.”

Derek flinched hard.

“But Lena told me,” Evelyn whispered shakily, “that Maya agreed. That the babies were meant for the marriage. For the family.”

I laughed once.