Sarah’s smile was triumphant. “That’s impossible. James was an orphan, and his body was cremated. There’s no one to test against.”
“Actually,” Mr. Martinez said, gesturing to the gallery, “I’d like to introduce Elizabeth Parker—James Wilson’s biological mother.”
Elizabeth stood, and a murmur ran through the courtroom. Even from where I sat, I could see Sarah’s face turn ashen.
“I’m willing to submit to a DNA test,” Elizabeth announced clearly. “To determine if this child is my grandson.”
The judge nodded. “DNA testing is ordered. We’ll reconvene when the results are available.”
Sarah swayed slightly in her seat, all color drained from her face. Our mother rushed to support her, shooting me a venomous look. But for the first time since this nightmare began, I felt hope.
The courtroom was silent as the judge opened the envelope containing the DNA test results. Sarah sat rigidly in her chair, the baby sleeping peacefully in her arms, unaware of the drama unfolding around him.