He erupted. “How dare you! This baby is an embarrassment! I could have kids if I wanted. Everyone in this family listens to me. I’ve always gotten what I want—and that’s not changing!”

It was unfolding perfectly—almost too perfectly. A small, genuine laugh escaped me, edged with exhaustion and disbelief.

Ethan’s face twisted. “What’s so funny?” he demanded.

I didn’t answer. I simply looked past him, at the lineup waiting in the hall.

“What’s so funny?” he yelled again, turning.

The color drained from his face when he saw them—our parents, our family lawyer holding a briefcase, his wife Jessica, his boss from the accounting firm, and Cheryl, his intern and secret lover – a stunning Black woman who made his earlier slurs hang in the air like poison.

He turned back to me, stunned. I was recording now, my phone steady in my hand. Tears welled in his eyes, but before he could speak, our father stepped forward and slapped him hard across the face. The sound cracked through the sterile hospital air.

Ethan clutched his cheek, gaping. Before he could protest, the lawyer pressed a document to his chest.