Martin scowled, staring at Remington with sheer disbelief.
"Remington, what kind of nonsense are you spouting? Ron isn't my grandson? Not a West? That's impossible. He looks exactly like my Quentin. How could he not be ours? And if he isn't ours, whose is he?"
Remington's expression turned lethal, a palpable, suffocating hostility rolling off him in waves.
Ray knew exactly what ticked his boss off.
He let out a derisive scoff.
"Mr. West, saying the kid looks like Mr. Quentin is an outright lie. We've all seen him. Ron's eyes and mouth don't look a damn thing like anyone in the West family. He's a spitting image of Mr. Dashiell!"
It was true that Ron didn't look like Quentin. But since he was still just a soft, chubby infant, his features hadn't fully sharpened.
Because no one had a reason to suspect anything, they hadn't overly scrutinized his lack of resemblance to the Wests.
But to outright claim the kid looked like Quentin now was just insulting.
Martin whipped his head toward Ray, his eyes blazing. "How could he possibly look like Remington?! What are you implying?!"
He looked appropriately furious and insulted. Remington merely smiled, a cold, mocking curve of his lips.
"Ron is my son. Of course he looks like me."
Martin looked completely stunned. "What? Remington, what the hell are you talking about? Have you lost your mind? We did an amniocentesis DNA test back then! Evelina was carrying Quentin's baby! There is no universe where Ron is your child!"
Without missing a beat, Remington pulled out the paternity report and shoved it in Martin's face.


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