"Lawson will be fine," Carl shouted from the carpet. "He's just suffered a shock to his system, I think."

"You think?" Melanie snapped. "What kind of doctor are you, anyway?"

​​

"His vitals are fine," Carl said. "I'm sure it's just psychological."

"If his vitals are fine, why is he passed out on my floor?" Melanie wailed. "Where's the ambulance? He needs to see a real doctor."

"My floors," Catherine corrected.

Madison glared up at her from the floor, "What the hell is wrong with you? My dad fainted—he could be dying—and you're still trying to kick us out. You're sick!"

"You guys did the same when my dad died," Catherine said with a shrug. "But that didn't stop you from kicking Maria and Samuel out of the house as quickly as you could, did it? Besides, Dr. Jordan says he's fine."

"We don't know that," Madison said, climbing to her feet. "And I swear to god if you killed him—I will destroy every last thing in your life."

Out of the corner of her eye, Catherine saw Geoffrey move to restrain Madison. Madison appeared to see the bodyguard too, and she slowly backed away, rubbing the rapidly swelling bump on her temple.

"You can try," Catherine said with a smile. "Though I don't think you want a rematch with Geoffrey just yet."

"Catherine, that's enough," Maria said, her voice soft but firm. "You've already won a huge victory today, but don't descend to their level. Let them stay for a few more days—at least until your uncle's health is better."

Catherine frowned and bit her lip, "Fine. Since Maria has asked me to, I'll give you a few days to get your things together and leave. Once Uncle is better, I want you out right away. Besides, I'm sure you don't want to live with Maria and Samuel any more than they want to live with you."

"You're pushing too far," Melanie warned. "You won't get away with this."

Blue lights flashed through the windowpanes as the ambulance pulled into the front yard. Two paramedics carrying a stretcher and several bags jumped out of the vehicle and rushed toward the house. Moments later, they appeared in the living room, ushered in by a servant. Dropping to their knees, they took Lawson's pulse and checked his vitals. They repeated the acts with their foreheads wrinkled with confusion.

"What's wrong?" Melanie asked, her voice shrill with nerves.

"His vitals are almost completely normal," one of the paramedics said. "There doesn't seem to be anything wrong with him."

"I don't understand," Melanie wailed.

"Don't worry, ma'am," the paramedic said, his voice calm and trained. "We'll bring him to the hospital and run a series of tests to determine the problem."

With a bit of straining, the men shifted Lawson's bulk onto the stretcher and carried him out of the room. Melanie and Madison ran after him, leaving Catherine alone with Clark, Carl, Maria, Samuel, and Geoffrey. A long, tense silence filled the room.

"Well, I think I'm going to be going now," Carl said. He glanced nervously at Catherine, "If we're done here."

She stared at the doctor—he was dressed in a snappy, navy blue sports coat that looked far too formal for the morning. His hair was gelled back, and his shockingly white teeth gleaned from between his lips. Everything about him revolted her, and she hated letting him go.

"What do you think, Maria?" she asked. "He's the one who faked Samuel's DNA test and almost ruined your lives. What do you want to do?"

"Wait a minute," Carl said. "We had our deal—I'd come here and admit to forging the documents, and then our business was finished—you can't change your mind now."

"Oh, can't I?" Catherine asked. "You know, I think I've seen your wife around before—you and my family belong to the same club, don't you? It's been a while since I've been—maybe I'll run into her on my next visit."

Carl glared at her, but he didn't make another move toward the door.

"Lawson was the one who did this," Maria said quietly. "It was his idea. If Carl refused to help him, he just would have found someone else."

"And if Carl had refused, he wouldn't be here in the first place," Catherine retorted. "Some other quack would be standing in our living room."

Maria sighed, "You have to let go of the past, Cathy."

"I can't," Catherine said. "I'm not as forgiving as you—I'm afraid. Your kindness is wonderful, but people treat it as a weakness. That's why Lawson bullied you so easily, you know."

"Kindness isn't the same as weakness," Maria said with a pained expression. "In my case, it was, but it doesn't have to be."

Frustrated, Catherine sighed and turned to Samuel. "What do you think?" she asked. "The test affected you the most. You're the one who had to leave your school and your friends—you're the one who was called a bastard."

"I don't know," Samuel said, looking uncertainly between his mother and Catherine. He bit his lip, and his eyes finally came to rest on Catherine. "No," he whispered.

"No?" Catherine asked.

"No, I don't want to let him off the hook," Samuel muttered.

Hurt and betrayal flashed in Maria's eyes, and she shot an accusing glance at Catherine. Filled with guilt, Catherine turned away.

"What the hell?" Carl shouted. "You told me that if I came here and confessed, you'd keep my secret. You can't go back on your word like this."

"I'm not going back on anything," Catherine said calmly. "But my brother, on the other hand, never made a promise, to begin with."

"This is ridiculous," Carl said. "What do you want?"

"It's not about what I want," she replied. "It's about what Samuel wants."

"You're telling me I'm being blackmailed by a bloody teenager," Carl shouted. "This is absolute shit."

"Just ask him what he wants," she suggested. "Samuel, what do you want?"

Samuel thought for a moment, "I want to go back to my old school. I want my old friends back. I don't want them to call me a bastard to my face and worse things behind my back. I want my old life."

"Oh, for Christ's sake," Carl groaned. "I'm a doctor, kid, not a bloody time traveler."

"Why don't you make a public statement?" Catherine suggested.

"Are you as mad as your brother?" Carl shouted. "That would destroy my reputation—I'd never work again."

"Well then, I guess you have a tough choice, Dr. Jordan," Catherine said. "Which way do you want to destroy your reputation? Which secret do you want to release to the public?"

Carl's eyes flashed, "Fine. I'll make a statement."

"Good," Catherine said. "Does that work for you, Samuel?"

"Yeah, I guess," he muttered.

"Great," Carl said. "Glad the whole bloody family is thrilled. Now, if you don't mind, I'm leaving."

He strode toward the door, pausing slightly at the threshold as if Catherine would stop him. She let him go and turned to Clark. His eyes sparkled behind his glasses, and he shook his head with slow amusement.

"I wouldn't think it from looking at you, but you sure take after your father," he said.

"I do?" she asked.

"Oh yes, you have his temper," Clark laughed. "He was a generous and a kind man, but once someone angered him, he was quite fearsome." He stood and slipped his files back into his briefcase, "I have other work to do, but I'll let you know as soon as I've finished all the formalities in transferring the houses to Maria and Samuel."

"Thanks so much, Mr. Foster," she said.

"Oh please, call me Clark," he replied.

"Well then," Maria finally said. "Where does this leave us?"

"It leaves you at home," Catherine said.

Maria shifted uncomfortably, and Samuel looked down at his scuffed sneakers. Catherine sighed—she'd been looking forward to her new relationship with them, but something had shifted. They were both looking at her like they didn't recognize her.

"I know I got worked up," she finally said. "But I meant every word I said, and I mean it when I say I want you both to live here. I was too naïve and selfish to stand up for you before, but I'm not going to let the Stewarts push you around anymore."

Maria spun in a slow circle, taking in the room, and the tacky decor. Catherine followed her stepmother's gaze. She looked at the leather and chunky metal furniture, the huge glass chandelier, the modernist sculptures and canvases that hung on the walls—none of the Stewarts understood the first thing about art or decoration. Still, they had filled the house with the most expensive and exclusive pieces they could find.

"You can get rid of all this trash if you want," Catherine said. "I think they kept some of the old furniture in storage somewhere. And some of this art is pretty valuable—maybe it can give you some money to live off."

"What about you?" Maria finally asked.

Catherine shrugged, "I'm a married woman now. I live with Sean."

Maria's forehead creased with worry. She opened her mouth and wanted to say something while the screech of tires sounded outside the mansion, and everyone turned to look out the window. A black sports car pulled up to the front door and came to a sharp stop. The door swung open, and Sean Blair climbed out of the driver's seat.