While He Was Toasting His New Life, I Handed Him a DNA Test That Changed Everything (4 of 4)

Clarity.

So when he asked to “discuss things like adults” over dinner, I knew exactly where he’d be—at the restaurant we used to love, the one with the piano player and the candlelit tables.

I wore red. Not crimson—red. And I walked straight over to their table.

His smile dropped when he saw me. The woman beside him looked like she had stepped out of a plastic surgeon’s catalog.

“Congrats on your freedom,” I said, setting an envelope next to his drink.

He opened it and his hands started to shake.

Then he looked at me—really looked at me—for the first time in years.

I leaned in and whispered, “You got your freedom, Thomas. I got the truth.”

And then I walked out.

No regrets. No second chances. Just silence—and the sound of everything he built crumbling behind me.