- My mother spoke those words with the exact same casual coolness she’d use to ask me to pick up a carton of milk. I was twenty years old, grinding through my second year of law school at a public university in Phoenix, Arizona. For the first time in my life, I felt like my future was actually mine to build.
- In my sister Astrid’s bedroom, a newborn slept wrapped tightly in a light blue blanket. Astrid had given birth just the afternoon before at a private medical clinic in Scottsdale, but before dawn broke today, she had packed her bags and boarded a flight straight to London—supposedly to take advantage of an exclusive business scholarship arranged by our parents.
- “Are you completely out of your mind? That child isn’t mine, and I’m not taking the fall,” I said, stepping back from the bed.
- My mother, Beatrice, lunged forward and grabbed my wrist with an unforgiving grip. “Astrid actually has a future ahead of her. You can easily take a break from your classes, pretend you hid a pregnancy, and stay home to raise him.”
- My father, Walter, hovered silently in the doorway, staring intently at the floorboards so he wouldn’t have to look me in the eye.
- “And what about my future, Mom? What happens to everything I’ve been working for?” I demanded, fighting back tears of white-hot anger.
- Beatrice rolled her eyes. “Elsie, stop exaggerating everything. Astrid has always been the ambitious, studious one, and we can still find a decent man for you later on.”
- Ever since we were children, our household had operated under this exact dynamic. Astrid received specialized tutoring, expensive clothing, and trips abroad. I inherited her hand-me-downs and carried the bitter consequences of her mistakes.
- “Who is the actual father of this baby?” I asked, staring directly into my mother’s eyes.
- Her calm expression instantly hardened into a glare. “That is none of your business, so stop asking.”
- That defensive flash proved the answer mattered far more than she was willing to admit.
- Later that night, I quietly slipped into Astrid’s empty bedroom to search through her remaining things. Hidden in the bottom pocket of a diaper bag, I found a burner phone left unlocked.
- Dozens of recent text messages filled the screen, all from a contact saved only under the initials “DR.” In one, Astrid had written: If the baby is a boy, your family trust parameters immediately change, and I’ve already reviewed the exact clauses.
- The profile photo was unmistakable: Dennis Roth, CEO of the Roth Capital Group and the sole heir to one of the most prominent wealth dynasties in California.
- In another exchange, Dennis had written back: Stop accessing private corporate files that do not belong to you.
- Astrid had responded without hesitation: When you finally realize what this baby means for your family empire, you’re going to come looking for me.
- She hadn’t fled the country out of shame or fear. She had calculated every single step of this plot.
- The very next morning, I packed my ID, a few changes of clothes, and all my personal savings into a backpack. I picked up the small baby, carried him out the front door, and hailed a cab directly off the street.
- “Where to today, miss?” the driver asked as he pulled away.
- “Take us straight to San Diego. The corporate headquarters of the Roth Capital Group.”
- Upon arrival at the massive glass tower, security personnel in the lobby immediately refused to let me past the turnstiles without an appointment. I carefully pulled back the corner of the blue blanket to reveal the sleeping infant’s face to the guard.
- “Please tell Dennis Roth that I am standing down here with his son,” I stated firmly.
- Five minutes later, I was standing inside an expansive executive office on the top floor. Dennis looked even colder and more distant in person than he did in financial magazines.
- “What exactly do you want right now? Is this a demand for money?” Dennis asked, leaning against his dark mahogany desk.
- “No, I don’t want your money. I want someone to take proper responsibility for the child my family tried to turn into my life sentence,” I answered truthfully.
- I laid out the entire situation, showed him the text messages on the secondary phone, and demanded an immediate DNA test.
- While I was speaking, my personal phone began vibrating nonstop in my pocket. Twenty-seven missed calls from my parents, followed quickly by a text from my mother: Bring that baby back home right now, or we will call the authorities and tell them you kidnapped him.
- Dennis stepped toward me and picked up the crying child with surprising awkwardness. “Save that text message on your device immediately.”
- A moment later, a corporate attorney walked briskly into the room holding a tablet. “Mr. Roth, the young woman’s family has just published a public statement on social media.”
- My mother had recorded a tearful video directly in front of our house, claiming her younger daughter Elsie had stolen her sister’s newborn while the family was asleep. Beneath the video, they had attached an old, unflattering photograph of me taken after a high school argument, accompanied by a caption describing me as an unstable individual with a history of violent outbursts who had fled with an infant.
- I felt the ground give way beneath my feet as I stared at the screen.
- “Do not attempt to post any public response just yet,” Dennis instructed calmly while reading the post.
- “Why shouldn’t I defend myself right now?” I asked, trembling with frustration.
- “Because if your sister managed to pull off what I think she did, this entire scheme did not simply start today,” Dennis replied.
- In that exact moment, I realized my family wasn’t merely trying to steal my future. They were actively using me as a human shield to protect themselves from something massive—though I had no idea what that truly was yet.
- The formal DNA test was conducted quickly at a private medical clinic located directly inside the business park. While we waited for the lab results, the corporate security team ran a thorough background check on Astrid’s recent activity in the city. The investigative report returned long before the official medical results were delivered.
- “Astrid spent the last six months completing a temporary internship in our corporate asset management department,” an investigator reported. “She officially completed her term three weeks ago.”
- Dennis immediately stood up from his desk, his expression darkening. “What specific directories did she access during that time?”
- “Two days before giving birth, she used a senior supervisor’s login credentials to download restricted financial records from the central Roth family trust,” the investigator explained.
- At that exact moment, Madeline Roth, Dennis’s influential mother, walked through the double doors of the office. “What specific documents were stolen from our secure servers?”
- “Succession framework clauses, voting allocation rights, and structural control mechanisms that trigger if the primary heir becomes incapacitated,” the investigator answered.
- I looked over at the baby resting peacefully in the small bassinet. “What does a newborn child have to do with corporate trust files?”
- Madeline turned toward me and answered coldly, “The birth of a direct male descendant of my son automatically modifies very specific clauses within our governance documents.”
- “How much money are we actually talking about here?” I inquired, trying to grasp the scale of the situation.
- “We are discussing legal control over asset portfolios valued at billions of dollars,” Madeline revealed.
- I suddenly recalled my mother insisting that Astrid could not be burdened with a public scandal before leaving for Europe. It had all been an elaborate lie. My parents never cared about hiding a simple pregnancy; they were hiding the child’s true father until their leverage was secured.
- A doctor entered the office shortly after, holding a sealed envelope containing the laboratory findings. Paternity probability was rated at 99.99 percent, confirming beyond any doubt that Dennis was indeed the biological father.
- My mother called my personal cell phone once again, and Dennis clicked the speakerphone button to answer it himself.
- “Elsie, you listen to me right now and bring that baby back home this instant!” Beatrice shouted over the line.
- “This is Dennis Roth speaking directly on this line,” he stated calmly.
- A sudden, heavy silence fell over the call before my mother found her voice again. “Mr. Roth… this is strictly a private family matter that we can handle internally.”
- “The infant sitting in my office is my biological son,” Dennis said firmly.
- “There must be some sort of terrible mistake with your information,” Beatrice stammered, her composure slipping away.
- “The certified genetic testing results state otherwise,” Dennis replied coldly.
- My mother’s tone shifted dramatically from defensive to calculating within a single second. “In that case, we need to schedule an immediate meeting, because Astrid is the mother, and we represent her legal interests.”
- “Astrid abandoned a newborn infant yesterday, and you attempted to force Elsie to take the blame for it,” Dennis countered.
- “Elsie has always been deeply jealous of her sister’s success and causes trouble!” Beatrice argued loudly before Dennis abruptly hung up the line.
- An hour later, local law enforcement officers arrived at the corporate building following the kidnapping report filed by my parents. The legal team presented the threatening text messages sent by my mother, while the investigating officer requested immediate access to our home security recordings. My parents had foolishly granted full remote access to the police, fully convinced that the exterior driveway camera would prove I had left the premises with the baby.
- However, an overlooked interior hallway camera had captured every single interaction inside the house. In the footage, my mother walked into my bedroom and unceremoniously placed the baby on my mattress.
- “Starting tomorrow, we are going to tell everyone that this child is yours so Astrid does not miss this golden opportunity,” Beatrice said on the recording.
- A few minutes later, my father appeared in the frame and asked, “What happens if Elsie refuses to go along with this plan?”
- “We will simply tell everyone that she has been obsessively jealous of Astrid her entire life,” Beatrice replied without warmth.
- “And what about those corporate documents?” Walter asked quietly.
- “Astrid has them safe, and once she finishes negotiating with the Roth family, we will get the boy back,” Beatrice confirmed.
- Upon reviewing the footage, the detective immediately dismissed the abduction report and canceled the public alert. Dennis paused the video playback and looked directly at the screen.
- “Your sister did not travel to London to attend a business program,” Dennis observed thoughtfully.
- “She went there specifically to initiate negotiations from a safe distance,” I added, realizing the full scope of her plan.
- Late that evening, Astrid placed a direct video call to Dennis’s private line from her luxury hotel room in London. She appeared completely poised and impeccably groomed on the screen.
- “Dennis, I see you have finally uncovered the full truth about our situation,” Astrid said with a calm smile.
- “You need to board the next flight back home immediately,” Dennis commanded sternly.
- “I don’t think I am ready to return just yet,” Astrid replied effortlessly, before noticing me standing in the background. “Elsie, you really shouldn’t be interfering in corporate business that doesn’t concern you.”
- “Mom tried to force me to abandon my education and raise your child as my own,” I said, stepping closer to the camera.
- “Oh, stop being so dramatic, Elsie. You always make everything about yourself,” Astrid dismissed before turning her attention back to Dennis.
- Dennis laid the printed list of stolen files directly in front of the camera lens. “What is it that you are actually demanding from us?”
- Astrid answered without the slightest bit of hesitation, “I want a permanent seat on the corporate board, a prime real estate title, and immediate access to an offshore liquid fund of one hundred million dollars.”
- Madeline’s face turned completely pale behind her son. “That is outright criminal extortion.”
- “It is simply securing my newborn child’s financial future,” Astrid corrected smoothly.
- “Your son is barely three days old, and you are already utilizing him as a bargaining chip,” Dennis said with disgust.
- Astrid smiled coldly into the camera. “If you do not agree to my exact terms within twenty-four hours, I will publicly release records proving your late father engaged in massive financial fraud fifteen years ago.”
- “I do not need twenty-four hours to give you my answer, because the answer is absolutely no,” Dennis replied steadily.
- Astrid’s confident smile vanished instantly. “Then I am going to completely destroy your family name.”
- Dennis held his quiet son securely against his chest and looked straight into the camera lens. “Go right ahead and try.”
- The very next morning, Astrid followed through on her threat without showing a single shred of remorse.
-
At precisely seven fifteen in the morning, the leaked corporate documents began spreading rapidly across financial news networks, social media platforms, and private journalist circles. By eight o’clock, the stock value of the primary subsidiary belonging to the Roth Capital Group experienced a sharp decline. Before noon arrived, press trucks equipped with massive camera rigs were parked all along the main boulevard in San Diego, and the Roth family surname was trending nationwide.
Astrid had distributed confidential banking records, historical board meeting transcripts, wire transfer logs, and private trust amendments. Her public narrative was straightforward: the Roth dynasty had systematically concealed fraudulent transactions orchestrated years earlier by the founder, Richard Roth, who had passed away six years prior.
Madeline paced back and forth across the executive office in a panic. “We can issue a public statement denying the authenticity of these files and claim they were manipulated!”
Dennis shook his head firmly. “Are these records actually forged, Mother?”
Madeline dropped her gaze and remained completely silent, her reaction giving away the truth.
“My father committed financial crimes to build this empire, and you knew about it all along?” Dennis questioned sternly.
“I was merely trying to protect our family’s reputation,” Madeline defended weakly.
“And you chose to keep it hidden from me?” Dennis pushed further.
I sat quietly near the infant’s portable crib, watching a powerful dynasty crumble under the exact same toxic reasoning that had destroyed my own home life. The phrase about doing everything for the sake of the family was constantly used by people looking to justify making someone else pay for their mistakes.
Dennis immediately summoned his full team of corporate attorneys. “Submit every single original accounting file directly to the federal financial regulatory authorities without delay, hire an independent external auditing firm, and ensure there are zero exceptions made for anyone.”
Madeline stared at her son in absolute horror. “Are you truly going to hand over our entire legacy to government regulators?”
“I am going to tell the absolute truth,” Dennis answered without hesitation.
“Your father spent his entire life building this enterprise!” Madeline argued fiercely.
“And if a foundational portion of this enterprise was built illegally, I am certainly not going to place my newborn child on top of it to hold up the lies,” Dennis declared.
That afternoon, Dennis stood before dozens of media cameras at a press conference. He did not attempt to deny the allegations, nor did he shift the blame toward Astrid. Instead, he openly acknowledged the evidence of historical financial irregularities, pledged complete transparency with federal investigators, and committed to returning any funds that had been improperly acquired.
The financial loss continued for two straight days, but the public perception began to shift dramatically. Industry analysts had anticipated a corporate cover-up, but they encountered unprecedented honesty. Company employees had braced for widespread panic, but found steady leadership instead, causing Astrid’s extortion attempt to rapidly lose its leverage.
Shortly after, Dennis publicly confirmed his paternity of the newborn infant. He explained to the press that the child’s mother had abandoned him immediately after birth, and that an innocent young woman had been falsely accused of child abduction by her own relatives.
A news reporter shouted from the crowd, asking for the identity of the person who had protected the baby.
Dennis paused for a moment before answering clearly into the microphones, “Her name is Elsie McCann, and she protected my son when everyone else in her life was only focused on what they could extract from the situation.”
My personal phone exploded with hundreds of notifications from university peers, media reporters, and complete strangers. People who had previously shared my mother’s smear campaign online quickly began deleting their posts. My family had completely lost control of the public story, and Astrid soon lost her remaining freedom.
Federal investigators discovered that Astrid had opened fraudulent accounts using false identities, and that she had attempted to sell stolen corporate documents to foreign investment funds weeks prior to giving birth. International law enforcement stepped in, and Astrid was arrested by local authorities at an airport in Zurich while attempting to board a flight using a fraudulent passport and carrying encrypted flash drives.
Back home, my parents received formal court summonses for filing a false criminal report and conspiring to conceal a child’s true identity for financial gain. Three days later, Beatrice came to meet me at a private Roth family residence in the upscale neighborhood of La Jolla, where I was staying temporarily at the request of legal advisors to assist with official statements.
The infant had dedicated nursing care, a pediatrician, and a beautifully decorated nursery room, but whenever he cried in the middle of the night, Dennis was always the very first person to walk into the room.
During those quiet late hours, I watched him struggle with basic care routine steps. I remember watching him carefully prepare a baby bottle while repeatedly re-reading the instruction manual on the back of the formula box.
“Reading corporate earnings reports to a newborn is not a proper bedtime story,” I mentioned playfully one night as I found him walking down the hallway with the baby.
“He actually fell asleep by the time I reached page twelve,” Dennis replied with a small grin.
“That is probably because your financial breakdown was completely boring,” I joked lightheartedly.
“Regardless of the reason, it achieved the desired result,” he countered softly.
It was the very first time I had ever seen him display a genuine, warm smile.
When Beatrice arrived at the residence later that afternoon, she wore a simple outfit intended to make her appear small and fragile. “Elsie, we desperately need to sit down and talk as a family.”
“No, we do not need to talk about anything,” I replied, standing my ground near the entry door.
“We are your parents, Elsie, and we are your actual family,” Beatrice pleaded softly.
“You are Astrid’s family, but you have never been mine,” I answered plainly.
Her eyes filled with tears as she took a step closer. “We simply made a few terrible mistakes because we were overwhelmed.”
“You deliberately tried to sabotage my entire future just to protect your preferred daughter,” I corrected her firmly.
“We were terrified of what was happening to our lives!” she argued, her voice rising slightly.
“I was terrified too when you handed me a newborn child and told me to give up my education to cover up her actions,” I stated coldly.
Beatrice lowered her voice to a desperate whisper. “If you would just tell the investigators that this entire situation was a giant family misunderstanding, we might be able to avoid formal criminal charges.”
In that single moment, I realized with absolute clarity why she had come to see me. She had not come to apologize or express remorse for hurting me, but rather to use me one final time to save herself.
“I am never going to lie for you again,” I said with absolute certainty.
“After everything your father and I have done for you over the years!” Beatrice snapped, her delicate mask slipping away.
I let out a soft, bitter laugh. “Name just one thing you have ever done for me without instantly comparing me to Astrid.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out, leaving her standing in complete silence.
“Just name one single thing,” I repeated quietly.
When she remained entirely silent, I slowly closed the heavy front door between us. I did not feel a single drop of guilt inside me, but rather a profound sense of quiet relief, and for the very first time, that peace belonged entirely to me.
Over the following months, the legal proceedings progressed steadily through the courts. Dennis was granted full legal custody of his son, whom he officially named Eliott.
“Why did you choose the name Eliott?” I asked him one afternoon while we were sitting in the home library.
“Because my grandfather always told me that the name means bringer of light,” Dennis explained while holding the baby.
“After all the public chaotic scandal this situation brought into your life, do you truly see him that way?” I inquired gently.
Dennis looked down at his son’s face and replied, “It is precisely because of everything that happened that I view him as a blessing.”
The financial standing of the Roth Capital Group gradually stabilized over time. The exhaustive independent audit confirmed the historical improper transfers made years ago by Richard Roth, but it also thoroughly disproved several fabricated claims Astrid had added to increase her extortion leverage. The company paid necessary regulatory fines, restructured its corporate governance, and Madeline stepped down permanently from the board. Dennis did not completely sever personal contact with his mother, but he made it explicitly clear that he would never again conceal the truth for the sake of protecting a family surname.
As the legal chaos settled, I assumed I would simply pack my belongings and return home, but I quickly realized I no longer had a home to return to. My parents refused to answer my phone calls, former neighbors treated me like a tabloid character, and I had missed several critical weeks of university classes.
One morning, Dennis placed a thick leather folder on the dining table in front of me.
“What is this document?” I asked, looking up from my coffee.
“It is a full legal scholarship fund,” Dennis explained simply. “It completely covers your law school tuition, textbooks, daily transportation, and living expenses until you complete your degree.”
I immediately closed the folder and pushed it back across the table. “I cannot accept this from you.”
“You haven’t even reviewed the terms inside,” Dennis noted calmly.
“I do not want you or anyone else thinking I brought Eliott to your office just to get financial compensation,” I stated clearly.
“I would never think that about you,” Dennis assured me.
“Then I simply cannot accept your offer,” I maintained.
Dennis picked up the folder, reopened it, and pointed to the text on the initial page. “I am not offering this to you as a reward for bringing my son to me, but because you walked away from a home where everyone expected you to surrender your future, and yet you still fought to do the right thing.”
“Accepting this is still taking your money,” I countered.
“No, it is providing you with an equal opportunity, and you get to decide what you build with it,” Dennis reasoned gently.
I sat back and thought about my mother constantly telling me that my academic potential was inferior to my sister’s. I thought about Astrid receiving every privilege imaginable because everyone believed she was the only one with a real future, and I thought about how I had spent twenty years accepting whatever scraps were left over.
“I will accept this under one strict condition,” I declared, looking him in the eye.
Dennis raised an eyebrow in curiosity. “Tell me your condition.”
“This scholarship program cannot be created exclusively for me,” I explained firmly. “Every single year, the corporate foundation must award identical full scholarships to young individuals who were forced to pause their education to care for siblings, sick parents, or relatives because everyone told them their own dreams had to wait.”
Dennis watched me silently for several moments before speaking. “How many students should we fund each year?”
“As many as the foundation can possibly afford to support,” I answered.
“That is not a concrete number,” Dennis pointed out with a subtle smile. “Let us start with twenty recipients annually.”
“Make it thirty recipients, and we have a deal,” I countered smoothly.
“Thirty it is,” Dennis agreed, shaking my hand.
I returned to my legal studies at the university, though the transition was far from simple. There were professors who recognized my name from national news broadcasts, classmates who questioned me about Dennis as if my traumatic ordeal were a romantic movie, and people who falsely assumed I had suddenly become wealthy. I was not rich by any means, living in a tiny studio apartment near the campus that I rented using the standard living stipend provided by the scholarship program. I took public transportation daily, spent long nights studying in the library, and visited young Eliott every weekend.
Sometimes late at night, I would ask myself why I had chosen to take on all this burden instead of walking away. I could have easily handed the baby over at the corporate office that first day and completely disappeared, but whenever Eliott held my finger firmly in his tiny hand, I remembered the cold morning my mother tried to turn that innocent child into my personal prison. It was not his fault, and it was certainly not mine either.
Six months later, the formal criminal trial commenced in federal court. Astrid was extradited back to the country under federal custody, and I saw her face-to-face for the first time inside a courtroom. She still maintained an absolute appearance of perfection, with styled hair and a poised posture, but she no longer had our parents standing behind her to shield her from reality.
Her defense team attempted to frame her decision to abandon the baby as a severe postpartum emotional crisis, and for a fleeting moment, I almost felt a small touch of pity for her. However, that pity completely evaporated when the prosecution presented recovered text messages retrieved from her secondary device.
One message sent three weeks prior to giving birth read, “Elsie will take full responsibility for the baby because she always does whatever Mom demands of her.”
Another message read, “Once the Roth family agrees to pay the settlement, we will take the boy back and I will return home.”
A final message stated, “If Elsie tries to cause trouble, Mom knows exactly how to manipulate her into feeling unstable.”
I sat in the witness stand and read those cold sentences without shedding a single tear, which surprised me more than anything else. For years, I believed that feeling deep emotional pain meant my family still had power over me, but I finally understood that sometimes pain is simply the final thread snapping completely clean.
When I stepped down from the witness stand, Astrid glared at me from the defense table. “Elsie, I always knew deep down that you would take proper care of him,” she whispered as I passed.
I stopped walking and looked down at her. “That never gave you the right to abandon your child with me.”
“You are my sister, Elsie,” she argued quietly.
“Yes, I am your sister, but I was never your disposable replacement,” I replied clearly before walking away.
I testified truthfully for nearly three hours without exaggerating facts, inventing details, or seeking personal revenge. I simply presented the plain truth of what had occurred.
My parents received significant court penalties and formal probation for their direct involvement in filing a false police report and aiding the extortion scheme, losing the majority of their life savings to legal fees and court fines. Astrid was convicted on multiple felony counts of extortion, unauthorized access to secure data, and corporate fraud, receiving a lengthy prison sentence. Eliott was legally removed from her parental custody, with the court placing his long-term guardianship entirely with Dennis.
Neither Dennis nor I celebrated the legal verdict, because justice did not feel like a victory party, but rather like a heavy door finally closing shut forever.
Four years passed by quickly. The scholarship initiative I had requested grew exponentially over time, eventually funding over one hundred and twenty young adults who had put their lives on hold for others. Some were taking care of elderly parents, others were raising younger siblings after family tragedies, and one forty-three-year-old woman returned to complete her nursing degree after stepping away at seventeen to support her household.
I read her emotional thank-you letter on the exact morning of my university graduation. I thought about my mother in that moment, not with lingering bitterness or anger, but from a safe, distant perspective.
My graduation ceremony took place in a crowded auditorium filled with thousands of families. When the dean finally called my name across the loudspeaker, a young child’s clear voice echoed from the front row seats.
“That’s my Aunt Elsie!” four-year-old Eliott shouted excitedly, standing right up on his chair to clap as hard as he could.
Dennis quickly leaned over to gently pull him back down. “Eliott, please sit down properly in your seat.”
“But that is my Aunt Elsie up there!” Eliott insisted loudly, causing the surrounding crowd to laugh.
I burst out laughing right in the middle of the stage as I accepted my law diploma.
After the ceremony concluded, Eliott ran directly across the grassy courtyard holding a massive bouquet of flowers that was nearly as tall as he was. “Dad told me that you are the brave person who saved me!”
I knelt down on the grass to meet his eye level. “Your dad is definitely exaggerating the story a bit.”
Dennis walked up behind him with a warm smile. “I am not exaggerating even a little bit, Elsie.”
Eliott crossed his arms and looked back and forth between the two of us. “So who actually saved who back then?”
I looked at the bright, happy little boy standing in front of me, thinking back to that dark morning in Arizona, the small baby wrapped in a blue blanket, the backpack containing my entire life, and walking into the towering skyscraper without knowing if I would leave free or in handcuffs.
“We both managed to survive together,” I answered softly, adjusting his jacket collar.
“Survive what?” Eliott asked innocently.
“We survived living the life that other people had tried to choose for us,” I said, pulling him into a tight hug.
As I held him close, I finally understood a truth that would have seemed entirely impossible to me four years earlier. My mother had actually been correct about one single detail on that frantic morning: that newborn baby was truly going to change my future completely. But he didn’t force me to surrender my life—he gave me the strength to go out and reclaim it.
“Starting tomorrow, we’re telling everyone this baby is yours.”
