Recovery by Abigail Stone Page A

jumped, pulling herself from her thoughts. Emily gave her an odd look, pulling her sunglasses up onto her head. She had heavy bags under her eyes, was wearing very little make-up, and didn’t look at all like herself. When the waitress arrived back with Emily’s credit card and the receipt for their meal, she stuffed both into her expensive wallet, a deep sigh escaping her lips.
    “I have something to tell you,” Emily said. She was jittery and nervous. Barely capable of sitting still. She grabbed for Layla’s hand, giving it a squeeze. Layla looked down at it in confusion. Her mother was hardly the affection type.
    “What?” Layla asked. “Look, if it’s about me or my career or whatever, I really just don’t want to hear –”
    “No,” Emily interrupted.
    “Then what?” Layla questioned. “I haven’t used in weeks if that’s what this is –”
    “No,” Emily interrupted again, this time more stern. “It’s not that either.”
    Now, Layla was really confused. She watched as Emily ran a hand through her red hair, searching for the right words before finally speaking.
    “I spoke to Leo.”
    Her voice was barely audible over the sound of wine glasses clanking and people at surrounding tables making small talk.
    “You what?” Layla questioned. “Speak up, I can’t –”
     “I know you saw Leo. I spoke with him,” Emily pointedly interrupted, forcing Layla to look at her. Stunned, Layla reached for her wine glass, swallowing the last of the bittersweet liquid before standing up. She had to get out of here. There was no way she was having this discussion with her mother. Layla was humiliated and disgusted enough. She didn’t need a lecture.
     “I’m leaving.”
    “No you’re not,” Emily continued, pulling Layla back down. “There is something you really need to know Layla,” she shot her daughter a stern look, remaining cordial as a few bystanders began to eavesdrop on the commotion. “He’s not your father,” she finally hissed.
    Layla rolled her eyes. She was sick of being lied to by the people that should have cared about her the most. Sick of sitting idly by while everyone – Leo, Chase, her agent, her own damn mother – walked all over her. Enough is enough, Layla decided. She snatched her hand away from her mothers grip.
    “You don’t have to say that, I already know the truth.”
    “No,” Emily said again, this time louder. Layla watched as she rummaged through her purse before pulling out a piece of folded paper. She set it down in front of Layla, nodding apprehensively for her to open it.
    “What is that?” Layla questioned.
    “Go ahead,” Emily said, lighting a cigarette and looking off into the distance. “See for yourself.”
    Layla looked from Emily to the piece of paper before unfolding it with shaking hands.
    On the top of the page, the words ARC Point Lab were bolded. Below it, there was a paragraph of text with the word Conclusion printed above it. Layla skimmed over each sentence, her heartbeat thumping heavy in her ears.
    The alleged father, Leonardo Marsden, is excluded from paternity of the child, Layla Carter. The genetic systems listed with a paternity index equal to "0.00" were used for the basis of this finding. The probability of paternity is 0.00%. These results were confirmed by a second independent test.
    Time slowed to a stop.
    When Layla was finally done reading, she looked up at Emily, perplexed and in shock.
    “That’s right,” she whispered, squeezing Layla’s hand. “I got a test done. He’s not your father.”
    Layla felt dizzy. She slid the piece of paper back over to Emily, gripping the table as she tried her best to digest the news.
    “Then who is?” Layla heard herself ask. “Do you even know?”
    She didn’t mean for it to sound as cruel as it did, but Emily hardly appeared affected. In fact, she seemed to expect the question. Layla watched in a haze as her mother reached inside her purse, pulling out a second piece of paper