I was faster. I slammed my hand down on top of the documents, pinning them to the wood. I leaned in close to Peyton, lowering my voice so only the head of the table could hear.
“Touch it,” I hissed, “and I will read it aloud.”
Peyton recoiled as if I had burned her.
David ran a trembling hand through his hair. “Lauren, please. Just let us be. We’re starting a family.”
“Are you?” I asked loudly, straightening up so the entire room could hear. I picked up the envelope and pulled out the first document—the medical receipts Evelyn had procured. I slid them across the table until they stopped inches from Eleanor’s plate.
“That is a receipt from the Camelback Aesthetics Center,” I announced. “For a custom, medical-grade saline belly prosthetic. Purchased by Peyton three days ago.”
A collective gasp echoed through the dining room. An aunt at the far end of the table dropped her fork. It clattered against fine china, a sharp punctuation mark in the heavy silence.
Eleanor picked up the receipt, her hands trembling slightly. She adjusted her reading glasses. The color drained from her face, leaving her looking suddenly old and frail. “Peyton… what is this?”
“It’s a lie!” Peyton shrieked, standing up, her chair scraping violently against the floorboards. “She forged it! She’s obsessed, she’s trying to ruin us because David chose me and our baby!”
“Oh, right. The baby,” I said smoothly. I reached into my bag and pulled out the glossy ultrasound photos from Dr. Sutton’s clinic. I held them up for the room to see. “Funny thing about babies, Peyton. They usually show up on a real medical monitor. Not on a novelty website invoice.”
I dropped the ultrasound photos onto the table, right on top of the aesthetic clinic receipts.
“Those,” I said, my voice trembling slightly not from fear, but from the overwhelming power of the truth, “are twelve-week ultrasounds. Of twins. Conceived before David’s vasectomy. Verified by Dr. Sutton yesterday morning.”
David let out a choked, guttural sound. He sank back into his chair, burying his face in his hands. He knew it was true. He had seen the screen.
Eleanor stared at the ultrasound photos. Her eyes traced the two tiny shapes. Then, very slowly, she turned her gaze toward Peyton’s stomach.
