The long rectangular dining table was made of dark walnut. The silver cutlery gleamed under the crystal chandelier. The private chef had prepared a Michelin-star French dinner, but the atmosphere in the room was suffocating.
Harlan sat at the head of the table. He was wearing a crisp white shirt, the sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms. Jessenia sat to his right, with Leo in a high chair beside her. Kaylee sat on the left, picking at her food.
Leo was stabbing a piece of mashed carrot with his small silver fork.
"Daddy," Leo babbled happily. "Look! Bonjour!"
Harlan paused with his wine glass halfway to his mouth. He looked at his son. "Your pronunciation is getting better, Leo," Harlan replied in flawless, unaccented French.
Jessenia smiled. She took a sip of her sparkling water, playing the role of the proud, elegant mother.
Leo dropped his fork. He looked at Harlan with wide, curious eyes.
"Mommy, Paris! Daddy, Paris!" Leo babbled loudly, pointing a sticky finger at the dining room wall where a classic French painting hung.
Harlan set his wine glass down. He wiped his mouth with a linen napkin. "Paris?" he asked softly, looking at the boy.
Kaylee dropped her fork. She leaned forward, her eyes gleaming with sudden, sharp interest. "Oh? Have you guys been to Paris together? When was that?"
The silver knife in Jessenia's hand slipped. The blade scraped violently against the bone china plate. The screeching sound echoed through the silent dining room.
Jessenia's heart stopped beating. The air in her lungs turned to lead.
She had fabricated their entire dating timeline. According to the lie she told the Schwartz family, they had taken a romantic trip to Paris the Thanksgiving before she got pregnant. But the truth was, Harlan had been in Dubai on a business trip that Thanksgiving. Jessenia had been sitting in a cubicle in New York, processing his travel expenses.
Kaylee didn't stop. She tilted her head, her voice dripping with fake innocence.
"Wait," Kaylee said. "Cole, didn't you tell me on the island that you absolutely hate Paris? You said you haven't been there since you were in college."
Harlan's dark eyebrows pulled together. He slowly turned his head and looked at Jessenia. His eyes were piercing, searching for a logical explanation.
Jessenia's palms began to sweat profusely. A cold drop of sweat rolled down her spine. The timeline was broken. If Harlan asked his assistant to pull his flight records, she was dead.
She forced a laugh. It sounded slightly breathless, but she prayed it sounded natural.
"Oh, Leo, sweetheart," Jessenia said, reaching out to stroke the boy's hair. "You're getting your stories mixed up. That was the trip Mommy took with Aunt Sarah. Remember the pictures?"
She looked at Harlan. She kept her eyes wide and steady.
Harlan didn't look convinced. The analytical machinery in his brain was working. He was a billionaire who built an empire on details. He didn't miss inconsistencies.
Jessenia braced herself for the interrogation. She prepared to watch her entire life crumble over a mashed carrot.
But Harlan looked down at Leo. The boy looked confused and slightly upset by the sudden tension in the room. Harlan's jaw tightened. The instinct to protect his son from this uncomfortable interrogation overrode his logical suspicion.
Harlan's brow furrowed. "Dubai... Paris..." He pressed his fingers to his temple, his face tightening in genuine discomfort. "I don't know. My head hurts." He shifted his gaze sharply to Kaylee, shutting down the probe. "Leo, eat your carrots."
Jessenia stopped breathing. She watched the defensive wall slam down over Harlan's expression. He wasn't confirming her story, but he was actively choosing to suppress the contradiction for the sake of peace. He was protecting the family unit.
She immediately grabbed the lifeline of his silence. She let out a soft, emotional sigh, reaching over to stroke Harlan's arm.
"Don't push yourself, darling," Jessenia whispered. She let a single tear pool in her eye. "The memories will come back when they're ready."
Kaylee's face turned pale. Her mouth opened slightly in disbelief. She had tried to blow up the table, and instead, she had accidentally handed them a romantic milestone.
Leo clapped his hands. "Yay! Daddy went to Paris!"
Dinner resumed. The crisis was averted.
An hour later, Jessenia locked herself in the first-floor powder room. She leaned her back against the heavy wooden door and slid down to the marble floor. She gasped for air, her chest heaving.
Words were not enough. Verbal lies were too fragile. Children talked. Green tea bitches probed. She needed something solid. She needed physical proof to lock Harlan's memory into the cage she had built.
