“She set up the account, Blake,” I said. “She put the money in it herself.”

Blake’s face went pale.

He pulled the papers closer, his fingers gripping the edges.

“This can’t be,” he whispered. “This has my mother’s personal authorization stamp.”

“Keep reading,” I said.

I pointed to the third document.

It was a copy of the medical report from the clinic in Geneva where our twins were born.

Beside it was the fake DNA report Helena had presented to him during the custody hearing.

“The clinic never ran those tests,” I said. “Helena paid the lab director fifty thousand dollars to write a false report.”

“The twins are mine,” Blake said, his voice barely a whisper.

“They were always yours,” I said, my voice cracking. “But she told me you were going to sue for sole custody and declare me unfit.”

“I never said that,” Blake said, looking up at me. “I was angry, but I would never have taken them from you.”

“She told me you did,” I said. “She showed me court orders that she had drafted. She said if I didn’t disappear with them, she would use her connections to have me committed.”