The perfume of Casablanca lilies always made me nauseous, but Victoria insisted on them.

They lined the limestone terrace of the Beverly Hills estate, pale and heavy under the hot afternoon sun.

I smoothed the silk of my maternity dress, my palm resting on the hard curve of my eight-month belly.

Fifty guests sat at the round tables, clutching glasses of Dom Pérignon and looking anywhere but at me.

Victoria Callahan stood up at the head table, her diamond bracelets clinking against her crystal flute.

Her sister, Adelaide, leaned forward with a thin, sharp smile.

“Thank you all for coming to celebrate the future of the Callahan legacy,” Victoria said, her voice carrying easily across the manicured lawn.

She paused, her cold gray eyes locking onto mine.

“Though, of course, we must address the shadow hanging over this afternoon.”

The chatter at the tables died instantly.

My husband, Tyler, stood beside her, his hand tucked into the pocket of his tailored suit.

He did not look at me. He looked down at his leather shoes.

“Mother,” I said, my voice steady despite the sudden racing of my heart. “What are you doing?”

“I am protecting my family, Natalie,” Victoria said, her expression hardening.

Adelaide nodded in agreement, crossing her arms over her chest.

“We have received the results of a private prenatal paternity test,” Victoria announced to the crowd.

A collective gasp rippled through the guests.

“The child Natalie is carrying does not belong to my son,” she said.

Tyler finally looked up, his face a mask of practiced disappointment.

“I wanted to believe you, Natalie,” Tyler said, his voice loud enough for the back row to hear. “But the science doesn’t lie.”

Over by the French doors, Chloe Vance stood with a champagne glass in her hand, a small, triumphant smirk on her lips.

I stood up slowly, using the edge of the table for balance.

My hand did not tremble.

“You should have checked your sources, Victoria,” I said.

I reached into my leather tote bag on the chair beside me and pulled out a thick, manila envelope bound with a red rubber band.