“You need to swab your cheek, Carter,” I said. “Right now, in front of your guests, or the court will accept the default filing tomorrow morning.”

Carter’s hand shook as he reached for the white envelope.

He looked at his mother, a sudden, deep panic in his eyes that went far beyond the loss of the company.

Vivian reached out to grab his arm, her face suddenly devoid of all color.

The silence in the ballroom was absolute as Carter tore the red seal.

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

I pulled the phone from my pocket and glanced at the screen.

It was a text from Lydia, confirming the certified medical files had just been uploaded to the probate court registry.

I looked back at Carter.

His fingers trembled as he pulled the documents from the torn envelope.

He did not find a swab kit inside.

He found three sheets of heavy white paper bearing the seal of the New England Fertility Institute and the signature of a court-appointed forensic pathologist.

“These are the results of the lab work we both submitted to last Tuesday,” I said, my voice carrying clearly across the silent ballroom.