When it was time, everyone gathered around the cake.

Phones out. Smiles ready.
I picked up the microphone.

“Before we find out the baby’s gender,” I said, “there’s something else everyone needs to see.”

The room went quiet.

Behind her, the screen lit up.

She turned slowly—and the color drained from her face.
I explained everything. Calmly.

The diagnosis. The procedure. The fact that I couldn’t have children.

Then I showed the proof.
Medical reports. Dates. Facts.

Gasps filled the room.
Stephanie panicked. “What are you doing?”

I didn’t stop.
“I also don’t know if she’s even pregnant,” I added.
That’s when the room shifted completely.

Then I revealed the rest.
The messages.

Her words. Her plans. Her betrayal.
Clear. Impossible to deny.
People stared. Whispered. Reacted.

Her parents looked shocked. Mine said nothing.

And then—

The man from her messages walked in.
He froze when he saw the crowd.
I pointed.