I gazed at the page, attempting to understand the plain ink letters, the identities, the digits, and the percentage graphic located near the base.
Miranda motioned toward my father, who had not shifted a single inch.
“This document confirms that this guy is not your actual dad, Gavin,” she declared coolly. “I got the screening completed secretly right after your birth. I had a feeling he was not your real father, yet he was the more decent guy… I never informed Simon. I held onto the papers, naturally. I did not believe it was important back then… however today, considering all your success, I figured you needed the facts.”
She grinned, somewhat softly, as if she were performing a good deed for me.
“You belong to me, sweetie,” she continued. “Right now, we are able to restart our relationship from the beginning.”
“Excuse me, pardon?” My tone broke slightly.
She did not blink. She simply removed a clipped stack of paperwork from her tote and opened them carefully, as though it were a pitch she had practiced beforehand.
She placed the agreement over the wooden fence, grabbed an ink pen from her bag, and pressed the button.
“The only thing remaining is your signature,” she mentioned, pushing a page in my direction.
I looked intently at the sheet. It contained heavy lawyer jargon. I was familiar with this sort of text lately, but that did not equal fully grasping it. Regardless, I quickly read over the words. The third section struck me like a physical blow: she was attempting to take a percentage of my business.
