"Chloe, sweetheart, listen to me," Marcus pleaded, reaching out for her. She slapped his hand away.
Patricia finally found her voice. "My grandchildren," she whispered, tears spilling over her mascara. "You let me believe I would never have grandchildren. You let me mourn..."
"Mom, she’s lying! She’s trying to ruin my life!" Marcus barked, desperate to regain control. He turned back to me, his chest heaving. "Look at you! Renting a helicopter, dressing these kids up in fancy clothes... Who paid for this, Kesha? Who’s the sugar daddy you manipulated into funding this little revenge stunt? Because I know you. You were a broke waitress when I left you."