Alistair laughed under his breath and kissed my temple again before he turned, at last, to my parents. Every trace of softness vanished; his eyes went to ice.

“Now,” he said, his voice low. “What was it you were saying — about my son having no father?”

Reginald backed up so fast he struck the heart monitor, setting it beeping.

“Mr. Sanders… I… we…” He couldn’t form a sentence. The loud, threatening man of two minutes ago was shaking like a scolded child. “We didn’t know. Florence never told us anything.”

“Because she didn’t want your poison anywhere near my son,” Alistair said, taking a slow step toward him.

Barbara clutched her pearls with shaking hands. “Mr. Sanders, this is all a terrible misunderstanding. Florence is — she’s confused, from the birth. Had we known you were the father, we’d have been overjoyed.