A few chuckles rippled faintly through the room.

George continued, "It’s strange talking to you from the other side, Winn. But I had to do this. What I’m about to tell you will help you understand why I did what I did. Your mother knows most of it—I’ve already spoken to her—but she begged me to keep it quiet until now. So here we are. Your old man’s final confession."

Anna’s shrill voice shattered the air. "Turn it off! Turn it off now!" Her usually composed demeanor dissolved into pure panic.

"Mum, calm down." Winn said. He could feel Sylvia’s hand tighten around his, her fingers trembling.

Maurice snatched the remote from Raphael. The screen froze on George Orchard’s half-smiling face.

"Winn, you cannot listen to this. Please, I am begging you..." Anna’s eyes darted to her husband. "Tom..."

"Oh, shut up! I already know he isn’t my son!" Tom snapped.

Gasps rippled through the extended family members seated.

Winn’s entire body went cold. "W...what?" he managed, barely above a whisper. His throat felt raw, his pulse deafening in his ears. His mind scrambled, clawing through decades of memories that suddenly looked different in this new, vicious light.

Anna turned to Tom, her face pale and slick with sweat. "You...you knew?"

Tom’s lip curled, a cruel glimmer in his eyes. "What do you take me for? A fool? Of course I knew." He leaned back lazily.

"You didn’t say anything..."

"And what would that have achieved?"

Winn could barely hear anymore. The blood rushing in his ears drowned everything out. He turned toward Sylvia—his last anchor, his one constant—but the look on her face was enough to shatter him completely. Her eyes were wet, pleading, guilty. She knew.

"You knew," he whispered.

Sylvia’s lips quivered. "I...I just found out. Dad told me recently. I didn’t believe him, that’s why I didn’t tell you, Winn. I swear."

"Oh my God," Winn rasped. His hand slipped from hers, the warmth gone instantly. "Oh my God!! Are you guys fucking kidding me?!"

He surged to his feet. "This actually explains plenty," he said, pacing now, his gestures wild, erratic. "The abuse all these years—the goddamn condescension." His chest rose and fell.

Anna reached for him. "Winn—"

He jerked away. "Don’t. Just don’t." His eyes glistened. "You let me grow up thinking I was the problem. You let him beat me down just to keep your perfect little lie alive. And to think I spent my life—my entire fucking life—trying to prove him wrong!"

"Winn, please—"

Winn exhaled shakily, a laugh escaping him. "Congratulations, everyone," he said. "You managed to turn the will reading into a fucking soap opera."

"Stop being so dramatic. I’m the one who should be angry. I raised a bastard," Tom sneered. Anna inhaled sharply, color draining from her face.

Winn’s jaw flexed, his teeth grinding as fury roared inside him. Every muscle in his body screamed to leap across the table and wipe that smug expression off Tom’s face, but he didn’t. He forced his breathing steady, his eyes narrowing into sharp slits. "Play the video," he said quietly, deadly calm.

He turned to Maurice, who swallowed hard and nodded.

Maurice fumbled for the remote, pressing play as if afraid the device might explode. The frozen image of George Orchard flickered back to life on the screen.

The old man’s familiar voice filled the room, warm yet edged with truth heavy enough to crush marble. "Tom is not your father," George said plainly, as if he were merely confirming the weather. "I guess now it helps you understand why he is the way he is towards you, but I’d be lying if I said he wasn’t already a nasty man."

Tom rolled his eyes and leaned back in his seat, his arms crossed. "Oh, here we go," he muttered under his breath.

George’s voice continued. "This part I didn’t tell your mother. Tom has a whole other family. He has a woman on the side and, as at the time of my death, three kids with her."

Anna’s face turned ghost white; she stared at the screen as though George had just risen from the grave to stab her through the heart. Her lips parted, trembling.

On the screen, George sighed. "I don’t know if I should be mad," he admitted. "Anna did lie to him too."

Anna broke then, her breath hitching. Tears welled up but didn’t fall. She looked small suddenly, fragile.

George’s face brightened, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. "Now, I’m done with the bad news," he said with a little chuckle. "You will be allowed to cash in on twenty percent of the Orchard wealth effective immediately."

Winn blinked. Even through the chaos, his practical brain registered that number—twenty percent—enough to stabilize House of Kane.

"The rest, you’ll get and be able to control when you have a child of your own, verified by Heathcliffe and Associates. If, in the event that a child isn’t in the cards for medical or personal reasons, Sylvia herself has to confirm that you truly married for love."

Winn froze. Married for love. Love? He’d married for necessity.

George smiled faintly on the screen, his gaze directed. "You wouldn’t lie to your gramps now, Syl, would you?" he said teasingly.

Sylvia wiped at her tears with a shaking hand. Her lip quivered as she whispered, "Never, Gramps."

"I love you guys with all my heart. Syl... you will always be my princess. See you again someday."

The video ended with a quiet click.

Of course, Tom was livid. His fury was a physical thing. The revelation of Winn’s potential heir—of a child—threw his careful manipulations into chaos. A child changed everything. A child meant the Orchard legacy could live on outside his reach. His plans to siphon off the wealth through Sharona were unraveling before his very eyes.

His jaw flexed, veins bulging at his temple, and his hand slammed against the table.

Winn got to his feet abruptly. He was pale, chest rising and falling unevenly. "I need to get out of here," he said. "I cannot be here. I can’t." His hand raked through his hair, and he turned to Sylvia, who looked up at him with tearful eyes, silently begging him not to leave. "We’ll talk when I get home," he said, softer this time. "But, Syl..."

He hesitated, then touched her cheek gently, the brotherly affection tender amidst the chaos. "I’m not mad at you. Never."