“I’m giving you the option.”

“No.”

“Lauren.”

“You wanted a board meeting. You wanted an audience. Finish it.”

That wasn’t true.

But I was angry enough that I let her believe it.

Olivia set a certified copy of the adoption decree on the table.

Lauren stared at it.

She didn’t touch it.

“What is that?”

I heard my own voice from far away.

“Your adoption record.”

She looked at me.

Then at Olivia.

Then back at me.

“No.”

“You were three weeks old when your father and I brought you home.”

“No.”

“Lauren.”

“No.”

She stepped back.

Ryan was gone.

For one second I was grateful he wasn’t there.

She shook her head rapidly.

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not.”

“Why would you say this now?”

“Because you stood beside your father’s casket and told me bloodline suddenly mattered.”

Her face crumpled.

I regretted the sentence the instant it left my mouth.

But I didn’t take it back.

I pointed to the document.

“Michael knew from the first day he held you that you weren’t his blood.”

Lauren stared at me.

“He never treated you differently.”

She covered her mouth.

“He stayed awake when you were sick. He taught you to drive. He sat through every awful school concert. He paid for college. He hired you. He trained you. He fought with me when I thought you weren’t ready to become CEO.”

She was crying openly now.

“He chose you every day for thirty-two years.”

“Stop.”

“And you waited until he couldn’t hear you to say his name wasn’t important anymore.”

“Stop!”

Her voice cracked across the room.

Nobody moved.

I finally stopped.

Lauren looked down at the papers.

After a long time, she said, “Who are they?”

I knew what she meant.

“Your biological parents.”

“Who are they?”

“Lauren, this is not the place.”

“You already made it the place.”

Fair.

Olivia looked at me.

I nodded.

She took out another folder.

“There’s something else,” I said.

Lauren laughed through tears.

“Of course there is.”

“Your biological father contacted Michael’s attorney five months ago.”

Her head snapped up.

“What?”

“Three letters.”

“Dad knew?”

“Yes.”

“Did you?”

“Yes.”

That was the moment I stopped being able to tell myself I was only revealing truth.

I was also hurting her.

Part of me wanted to.

That was ugly.

It was also true.

Lauren sank into a chair.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Your father wanted to.”

“When?”

“After Christmas.”

“That was months ago.”

“Then he got sick.”

“So you decided for me.”

“Yes.”

She looked at me like I was a stranger.

And in that moment, I couldn’t blame her.

Olivia slid copies of the letters across the table.

Lauren picked up the first one.

Her biological father’s name was Thomas Wade.

Her biological mother was Paula Wade.

They lived outside Dayton.

They had surrendered Lauren for adoption when they were young and broke.

According to the letters, they later had a son.

Lauren’s biological brother, Jason, was now twenty-eight and facing serious criminal charges after a string of theft-related arrests.

The first letter asked for contact.

The second asked for money for a private attorney.

The third was less careful.

Thomas had written that Michael and I had “done very well with the daughter we were lucky enough to raise” and that helping her biological family was “the decent thing.”

Lauren lowered the paper slowly.

“How much?”

“Twenty-five thousand.”

She laughed.

It sounded horrible.

“Of course.”

I said nothing.

She looked at me.

“So this is your lesson?”

“No.”

“You wanted to show me what my ‘real family’ looks like.”

“No.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

I held her gaze.

“All right.”

That stopped her.

I said, “Part of me did.”

Olivia looked down.

I continued.

“And that part of me was cruel.”

Lauren blinked.

“I’m furious with you. I’m grieving. You humiliated me at your father’s visitation and then tried to push me out of the company nine days later.”

Her face hardened again.

“But I should have told you about the adoption before now.”

“Yes.”

“I should have told you about the letters when they arrived.”

“Yes.”

“Your father and I kept putting it off because we told ourselves we were protecting you.”

“You were controlling me.”

“Maybe.”

She stared at me.

“But none of that changes what happened with the company.”

Her jaw tightened.

“There it is.”

“Yes.”

“You still get to win.”

“This isn’t a game.”

“It feels like one.”

She gathered the adoption papers with shaking hands.

I let her take them.

At the door, she turned around.

“For what it’s worth, I didn’t change Noah’s name because I stopped loving Dad.”

“I know.”

That surprised both of us.

She swallowed.

“Ryan told me he had spent seven years feeling like a guest in my family.”

I waited.

“He said he worked for Dad. Lived in the house Dad helped us buy. Had a son with Dad’s last name. He said he had given up every piece of himself to be accepted by us.”

“And you believed him.”

“I loved him.”

“Those are not the same thing.”

Her eyes flashed.