"Proving that Amara is Richard's biological daughter."
Someone gasped. Victoria saw Jennifer Morrison, the foundation's legal counsel, go pale.
Thomas recovered first. "Where did you get these results?"
"Someone sent them to me anonymously."
"And you believe them? Some anonymous document that conveniently proves exactly what this con artist wants you to believe?" Thomas stood up. "Victoria, think! Anyone can fake a DNA test. This is exactly what they want: to create enough doubt that you start throwing money at them."
"I want to commission our own test."
"Absolutely not!" Jennifer spoke for the first time. "That would require obtaining DNA samples from Richard's remains or verified blood relatives. The legal complications alone would be staggering. And if word got out that we were even considering paternity testing, the media would have a field day."
"So what are you proposing instead?"
Thomas and Jennifer exchanged a look. Then Thomas said quietly, "We handle this discreetly. We approach the woman with a confidential settlement. Enough money to improve her situation significantly, but tied to an ironclad NDA. She agrees to never speak about this publicly, never contact you or the foundation again, and never make any legal claims against the estate."
"You want to pay her off."
"We want to protect the foundation's mission. Do you have any idea what this kind of scandal would do to our fundraising, our partnerships, the hundreds of legitimate children who depend on our scholarships and programs?" Thomas's voice rose. "Your guilt over Richard's past doesn't justify destroying all the good work we do."
"And if she refuses the settlement?"
The silence that followed was answer enough.
"You destroy her," Victoria said softly. "You'd use lawyers and investigators and money to crush a sick woman and her child."
"We protect ourselves," Jennifer corrected, "using every legal means available. Character assassination if necessary: questions about her mental health, her suitability as a mother, her criminal history."
"She doesn't have a criminal history!"
"Everyone has something if you look hard enough. Traffic tickets that weren't paid, tax returns that don't quite add up, neighbors who remember suspicious behavior." Jennifer's voice was clinical. "We don't want to do this, Victoria. But we will if we have to."
Victoria stood up slowly. She looked around the table at these people she'd worked with, donated alongside, celebrated victories with, and she realized she didn't know them at all.
"You're all willing to destroy an innocent child to protect a reputation."
"We're willing to protect hundreds of children by preserving this foundation's effectiveness," Thomas said. "Sometimes the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. It's unfortunate that this girl exists, but acknowledging her would harm far more children than it would help."
"That's a convenient moral calculation."
"It's the truth. And I think if you're honest with yourself, you know it."
Victoria walked to the door, then turned back. "I need time to think about this."
"Take twenty-four hours," Thomas said. "Then we need your decision. Either you're with us in handling this discreetly, or we'll have to question whether you're still fit to lead this foundation."
That evening, Victoria sat alone in her penthouse, the DNA results spread on the coffee table in front of her. Daniel had offered to stay, but she'd sent him home. She needed to think, and she couldn't do that with anyone watching.
Her phone rang: an unknown number again.
"Hello?"
"Mrs. Hale, this is Officer Chen from the 19th Precinct. There has been an incident at St. Catherine's shelter. A woman named Nia Williams listed you as an emergency contact."
Victoria's heart stopped. "What kind of incident?"
"There was a break-in. Someone searched her living space, tore through her belongings. Ms. Williams is being treated for a panic attack, but she's asking for you."
Victoria was already grabbing her keys. "I'm on my way."
The shelter was chaos when she arrived: police officers interviewing witnesses, crime scene tape cordoning off areas. Marie, the shelter coordinator, looked furious.
"In twenty years of running this place, we've never had a break-in. People here have nothing worth stealing. But someone picked the lock, came in during dinner when everyone was downstairs, went straight to Nia's area, and tore it apart."
"What were they looking for?"
"No idea. But Nia was terrified. Kept saying she knew this would happen, that they'd found her."