was the little boy from the video.
The room fell silent.
“Mom,” Joe said with a triumphant smile. “I brought you the gift you’ve always wanted.”
He placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder.
“This is Leo. My son.”
Eleanor went pale.
I waited for outrage.
I had been her “daughter” for ten years. I had accompanied her to medical appointments, organized family events, protected the family’s public image, and tolerated countless cold remarks.
Instead, Eleanor opened her arms.
“My grandson… my precious boy.”
She looked at Leo with a
