“Why are you treating your own grandson like this?”

Betsy’s smile never wavered. “Oh, dear. I think there’s been a misunderstanding.”

“My six-year-old son is sitting alone while his cousins ignore him. Explain that.”

She set down her glass. Her eyes grew cold. “The moment Timmy arrived, I knew he wasn’t my grandson. Out of respect for my son, I kept quiet. But I can’t pretend to feel the same about him as the others.”

The words hit me like a slap. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Look at him, Alicia. Brown hair. Gray eyes. No one in our family has those traits. I know why you’ve never done a DNA test. You’re afraid the truth will come out and my son will leave you.”

I couldn’t breathe. The accusation hung between us like poison.

“You’re calling me a cheater? In front of my son?”

“I’m calling you a liar.”