and widened in disbelief.
“Is he… mine?” David stammered, his voice a mixture of shock and something else—regret, perhaps? The crowd, now deeply invested in this unexpected soap opera, leaned in closer.
I met David’s gaze steadily. “Yes, David. Meet your son, Alex.”
Gasps rippled through the gathering, and I saw Margaret’s grip tighten on her glass, her knuckles whitening. This was not the spectacle she had planned.
Margaret regained her composure with a brittle smile. “Well, this is certainly a surprise.”
