Chapter 2: The Man at the Head Table
For several seconds, nobody moved.
The music continued playing through the ballroom speakers, but it sounded strangely distant.
A waiter stood frozen beside the champagne station.
Preston held the DNA report with both hands.
His father remained behind the head table.
Brianna reached for Preston's arm.
"Baby, please. Let's go somewhere private.""
Preston pulled away.
"Don't touch me.""
"You're misunderstanding something.""
"Then explain it.""
Brianna opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
Preston looked down at the report again.
"Why does my father's name appear under alleged father?""
Russell finally moved.
He pushed his chair backward.
"Son, not here.""
Preston laughed once.
It was a short, bitter sound.
"Not here? You were perfectly comfortable standing here ten minutes ago, telling everybody how proud you were to become a grandfather.""
Russell glanced at the relatives gathering around them.
"Keep your voice down.""
"Answer me!""
His voice cracked through the ballroom.
Brianna began crying.
Not quietly.
She covered her face with both hands, letting out the kind of sobs that immediately attracted attention.
"Preston, I never wanted this to happen.""
He turned toward her.
"What does that mean?""
She shook her head.
"Please. I was scared.""
"Scared of what?""
Nyla remained beside the gift table.
She hadn't touched the album.
She hadn't raised her voice.
She simply watched the people who had once made her feel like the most inadequate woman in the world discover that their carefully constructed family story had a hole in its center.
Preston looked at her.
"How did you get this?""
Nyla folded her hands.
"That's the first question you should have asked.""
"Don't play games with me.""
"I'm not.""
"Where did you get it?""
"From a licensed laboratory.""
Russell stepped forward.
"That document could be fabricated.""
Nyla turned toward him.
"Then you'll have no problem submitting another sample.""
Russell's jaw tightened.
"Who gave you permission to interfere in my family?""
Nyla almost smiled.
"Your family?""
She glanced at the gold letters behind him.
"That's an interesting choice of words.""
Preston slammed the report onto the table.
"Everybody needs to stop talking around me!""
Aunt Denise, Preston's older cousin, stepped closer.
"Preston, baby, maybe we should take a minute.""
"No, Aunt Denise. Not one more minute. I want answers.""
Russell straightened his jacket.
"Your fiancée and I made a terrible mistake.""
The room seemed to lose its air.
Preston stared at him.
"Your fiancée?""
Russell closed his eyes.
"I didn't mean—"
"You said my fiancée.""
Brianna grabbed a tissue from the table.
"Preston, I love you.""
He turned toward her.
"Did you sleep with my father?""
She looked at Russell.
That was enough.
Preston took a step backward.
His champagne glass slipped from his hand and shattered against the polished floor.
A small piece of glass skidded beneath a chair.
Nobody bothered to pick it up.
Nyla watched Preston's face change.
She recognized that expression.
It was the same one she had worn years ago when he told her he was leaving because he wanted a family.
Except this time, the person being abandoned wasn't standing alone in a hospital corridor.
It was standing in a ballroom full of witnesses.
Russell lowered his voice.
"Son, I can explain.""
"Then explain.""
"It happened during a difficult period in your relationship.""
Preston frowned.
"What relationship?""
"Your marriage.""
Nyla's head lifted.
Russell looked at her.
For the first time, he seemed to remember that she was not simply an invited guest.
She was part of the history he was trying to rewrite.
Russell continued.
"You and Nyla were having problems. You were constantly fighting. Brianna was around, helping with family events. Things got complicated.""
Nyla let out a quiet breath.
"Interesting.""
Russell ignored her.
"It was a mistake.""
Preston looked between them.
"How long?""
Nobody answered.
"How long, Dad?""
Russell rubbed his forehead.
"Almost two years.""
Preston froze.
Two years.
That meant the affair had started before he had even filed for divorce.
Before Brianna had become his girlfriend.
Before Russell had offered to help him pay for the wedding venue.
Before his father had sat across from him at Thanksgiving and told him that sometimes a man had to leave a marriage that wasn't giving him what he needed.
Preston's voice dropped.
"You were sleeping with her while I was still married?""
Russell looked down.
Brianna whispered, "It wasn't supposed to happen like this.""
Preston turned toward her.
"How did you know?""
She wiped her cheeks.
"I found out after I got pregnant.""
"Found out what?""
"That the baby might not be yours.""
Preston stared at her.
"How long have you known?""
Brianna said nothing.
"How long?""
"Since the first ultrasound.""
A collective gasp moved through the room.
Preston looked at the ultrasound photograph displayed on the nearby television screen.
A little boy's face had been digitally added to the announcement graphic.
Beneath it were the words:
*THE NEXT MITCHELL MAN IS COMING.*
He looked back at Brianna.
"You knew, and you let me organize this?""
"I thought the baby was yours.""
"Thought?""
"Preston, I wanted to believe—"
"You wanted me to announce my father's child as mine?""
Russell stepped between them.
"Enough. You're embarrassing everyone.""
Preston stared at him.
"You're worried about embarrassment?""
Russell lowered his voice.
"Think about the family business. Think about your grandfather's legacy. We don't need this becoming a public scandal.""
That sentence did something to Preston.
His shoulders dropped.
His expression became almost empty.
"That's what you're worried about?""
Russell didn't answer.
Nyla finally reached for her purse.
She had delivered the album.
She had watched it open.
There was nothing else she needed to prove tonight.
But as she turned toward the exit, Preston called her name.
"Nyla.""
She stopped.
"Why did you do this?""
She slowly faced him.
For a moment, the ballroom disappeared.
There was only the man who had once promised to grow old beside her.
"Because I know what it's like to be blamed for something you didn't do.""
Preston's eyes lowered.
Nyla continued.
"You told everyone I couldn't give you a son. Your father told your relatives that I was the reason the Mitchell family had no heir. Brianna repeated it at every opportunity.""
She glanced at the report.
"I wanted the truth to have a seat at your celebration.""
Then she walked away.
Behind her, Preston stared at the document.
But before Nyla reached the ballroom doors, Aunt Denise hurried after her.
"Nyla, wait.""
Nyla turned.
Denise looked shaken.
"There's something you need to know.""
"What?""
Denise glanced over her shoulder toward Russell.
May you like
Then she leaned closer.
"That test isn't the only reason Russell is afraid tonight.""
