Clara: She didn't steal it, Julian. Look at the crest on the side. That's the Sterling family seal.
Julian: She must have snuck into my mother's jewelry vault! She's been working at the house for years!
Helena: I didn't steal anything, Mr. Sterling! You know I didn't!
Julian: Shut your mouth! Security, take her into custody before I call the chief of police!
Clara: Don't touch her! Nobody touches her until she speaks!
The whole chapel went deathly silent. My voice echoed off the stained-glass windows, sharp and cold. I walked down the three carpeted steps of the altar, my long silk train dragging behind me, until I stood directly in front of the kneeling maid and her crying son. Helena kept her eyes locked on the floor, her tears dripping onto the boy's beige jacket.
Clara: Helena, look at me. Did you steal this ring?
Helena: No, Miss Clara... I swear on my son's life, I didn't steal it.
Clara: Then who gave it to you?
Julian: Clara, this is ridiculous! You're interrogating the staff in front of our guests! Let's just finish the vows!
Clara: Shut up, Julian! Helena, answer me. Who gave you this ring?
Helena: Julian gave it to me. Seven years ago.
A collective gasp ripped through the audience. Julian’s mother, seated in the front row in a beige gown, stood up so fast her pearl necklace bounced against her collarbone. Her face was pale, her lips pressed into a thin, angry line.
Mrs. Sterling: That is a bold-faced lie! My son would never touch a low-class maid!
Julian: She's crazy, Clara! She's trying to extort money from my family! I don't even know her!
Leo: You do know us! You come to our house on Tuesday nights! You bring me toy cars!
Julian: Shut that kid up!
Clara: Let the child speak, Julian! What did you just say, little boy?
Leo: He comes to our apartment! He tells Mommy that he loves her, but he has to pretend in front of the mean old lady!
Mrs. Sterling: Mean old lady?! How dare you!
Clara: Helena... is this boy Julian's son?
Helena’s jaw trembled. She pulled a worn leather wallet from her apron pocket with shaking fingers, her knuckles turning white. She opened it and pulled out a folded piece of paper, holding it out toward me with a hand that couldn't stop shaking.
Helena: It's his birth certificate, Miss Clara. And the court-ordered paternity test from six years ago.
Julian: Give me that! That's fake! It's a forged document!
Julian lunged forward, his arm outstretched to snatch the paper out of Helena's hand, but I snatched it first. I unfolded the crisp, notarized document right under the bright lights of the chapel. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird as my eyes scanned the legal stamp, the hospital seal, and the name printed clearly on the line labeled "Father": *Julian Arthur Sterling*.
Leave a Comment