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Smoke curled through the Fieri family's hall. My Father in-law, Henry Fieri, was celebrating his 80th birthday, and more than two hundred relatives had gathered. I sat in the corner, sipping my coffee in silence. I've been married into the Fieri family for ten years, and it's always been like this. I never competed, never saying more than necessary. "Vera," Kieran Fieri, my husband, called out. He walked over to me, clutching an envelope. He spoke loud enough for everyone nearby to hear. "I have something to show you," he said. I set my cup down and looked up at him. Kieran tossed the envelope in front of me, a smug grin tugging at his lips. "Open it," he said. I pulled out the paper inside. It was a paternity test. The results said Kieran and a nine-year-old boy were biologically related. "I've got a son out there, and he's nine," Kieran declared, loud enough for everyone to hear. He raised his voice so everyone in the ballroom could hear. "You've been married into the Fieri family for ten years and still haven't given me a child. I've tolerated you long enough." The ballroom went dead silent. Everyone turned to stare at me, waiting for me to break down, throw a fit, or completely humiliate myself. But I just nodded at my lawyer, who threw a document onto the table. Instantly, everyone's face went white with shock.