Chapter 3: Café Ambush and Counterattack

My mother-in-law set up a meeting with Amanda at a local café.

Erica and I tagged along, slipping in to watch the drama unfold.

Honestly, I had no idea how my mother-in-law would react. After all, Amanda claimed those kids were her grandkids.

“Margaret, Marissa bullied me, you have to help me!” Amanda latched onto my mother-in-law’s arm the second she saw her, her voice trembling with fake tears, drawing stares from everyone in the place. I wanted to crawl under the table.

My mother-in-law’s face darkened. “Amanda, enough. This isn’t the time or place.”

Amanda dialed down the theatrics, sensing she’d gone too far.

“Margaret, I was with Ryan for three years. These are our two children.”

She shoved the kids forward, whispering for them to call her grandma.

But the kids, little and scared, just clung to her legs and wouldn’t say a word.

Amanda leaned down, pinching their arms and hissing, “Call her Grandma! No dinner for you if you don’t!”

She must’ve pinched too hard, because both kids suddenly erupted into loud, shrieking wails.

The scene was excruciating. People glanced up from their laptops, the barista froze mid-pour, and my cheeks burned with secondhand embarrassment.

My mother-in-law sipped her latte, unbothered. “You say these two are Ryan’s kids—can you prove it?”

“You can ask Marissa. Ryan was with me for years. If these aren’t his kids, whose are they?”

Erica turned to me, eyes wide. “Marissa, is that true?”

I fidgeted, nodding. “Yeah.”

“You let her walk all over you like that?”

I forced a smile. “What’s the point talking about it now?”

Erica was fuming. “I’ll get back at her for you.”

She stormed out, grabbed a cup of coffee, and dumped it all over Amanda’s designer dress.

“Have you no shame? My brother was married, and you still wormed your way in. Maybe you just wanted a sugar daddy!”

Amanda, wary of Erica’s family standing, swallowed her anger and played the victim, glancing at my mother-in-law.

“You say the kids are Ryan’s—where’s the paternity test?” my mother-in-law asked coolly.

That’s when I knew she was on my side.

Law school had prepped me for this. “Amanda, unless you’ve got a real paternity test or some paperwork, talk is cheap. Ryan’s gone; without a DNA sample or court order, you can’t prove a thing. And no one’s obligated to submit to a grandparent DNA test for you, so without evidence, you’re out of luck.”

After soaking Amanda with coffee, Erica yanked me aside.

“Listen up, I only recognize Marissa as my sister. You’re never getting into this family.”

My mother-in-law eyed the now-soaked Amanda and tossed her a bone. “The Lowell family can afford to take care of these kids, but only if Ms. Cross can actually prove they’re family.”

“Margaret, even though Ryan’s been cremated, you can still establish paternity through kinship DNA testing with the kids!” Amanda latched onto the tiniest hope.

I shook my head. “Unless you’ve got something with Ryan’s DNA—a toothbrush, hair, anything—and the family agrees, you’ve got nothing. And even then, inheritance law isn’t as simple as you think.”

Amanda’s face drained of color, coffee stains and all—she looked truly pitiful.

But I wasn’t done.

“Ms. Cross, you’ll need to return the condo and car Ryan gave you, too. Those are marital assets. He had no right to just give them away.”