“Say hi to the sharks,” my daughter-in-law whispered as she caused my “acc:ident” on the

Vanessa’s eyes narrowed as she exchanged a quick glance with David. Their carefully constructed facade was crumbling, and they knew it. “What are you trying to imply?” David asked, attempting to regain control of the situation. His voice was laced with desperation now, a far cry from the false warmth he’d used that morning.

I sat back, savoring the moment. “Why don’t you take a look for yourself?” I replied, nodding toward the file. The weight of the words hung heavily in the room, thickening the tension until it was almost visible.

With reluctant hands, Vanessa reached for the file, her fingers trembling. As she opened it, a wealth of documents spilled out—photographs, birth certificates, hospital records—all meticulously organized to tell a story they had hoped would remain buried.