Chapter 4 - THE STORM ON THE PORCH
I didn't open the door.
I walked down the entry hallway and looked through the glass pane. Mark was soaked from the rain, his tailored blazer ruined, his hair sticking to his forehead. His face was flushed red with fury, his fists pounding against the heavy oak wood.
"Claire! Open this damn door!" Mark shouted, his voice echoing across the quiet suburban street. "Open the door right now!"
I turned off the foyer light and stood in the shadow of the hallway. "Leave my property, Mark. Or I call the Westerville police."
"You brought two children to my wife's baby shower and claimed they were mine!" Mark yelled through the glass, slapping his palm against the door. "You ruined my marriage! Emily left for her parents' house! My mother is hysterical! You owe me an explanation!"
"I owe you nothing, Mark," I replied smoothly, my voice cold and unyielding. "You invited me to that shower with a note telling me to 'come see what I could never give you.' You set a trap to humiliate me, and you walked right into the truth."
Mark slammed his fist against the wood again. "They aren't mine! I want a court-ordered paternity test! If you refuse, I'll have my attorney file fraud charges against you for public defamation!"
"I don't need to refuse a test, Mark," I said, opening my phone and tapping a few commands. "In fact, my attorney will be delivering a formal legal package to your office on Monday morning."
Mark stopped pounding. "What package?"
"A formal paternity petition alongside three years of back child-support calculations," I informed him flatly. "You spent four years bragging about how wealthy you were while I paid for diapers, daycare, pediatric medical bills, and clothing on a single income. If you want to claim my sons are yours, Mark, you get to pay for the three years you abandoned them."
"You hid them from me!" Mark shrieked, his voice cracking into panic. "You committed fraud by hiding them!"
"Under Ohio family law, a mother who is unmarried at the time of birth has sole legal custody," I stated clearly. "You divorced me. You signed the termination agreement. You told me my body was defective. I simply respected your choice to leave my life."
Mark stared at the glass door, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. The reality of the legal storm heading his way was finally dawning on his arrogant mind.
"Claire..." Mark’s tone suddenly shifted, dropping the anger and attempting a weak, desperate negotiation. "Claire, listen to me... we can talk about this like adults. We don't need lawyers. If... if those boys are really mine, we can figure out a private arrangement. I can help you financially."
"You called them bastards two hours ago, Mark," I said softly. "You called me a cheater in front of thirty people. You don't get to buy your way into my sons' lives now that your pride is wounded."
"They are my blood!" Mark yelled, tears of rage finally mixing with the rain on his face. "I have a right to know if I have sons!"
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"Monday morning, Mark," I said. "Your attorney will receive the paperwork. Now get off my porch before the police arrive."
I pulled the heavy privacy curtain over the glass pane, locked the deadbolt, and walked back into the kitchen, leaving my ex-husband standing alone in the freezing rain.
